


Tempest

by JD_Riley



Category: Original Work
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Anal Sex, F/M, Female Alpha, Greek Mythology - Freeform, Greek and Roman Mythology - Freeform, High Seas Adventure, Historical, Knotting, Male Omega, MaleOmega, Omega Verse, Omegaverse, Pirates, Rough Sex, Transatlantic Slave Trade, Vaginal Sex, a/b/o dynamics, femalpha, monster fucking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-23
Updated: 2018-07-28
Packaged: 2019-04-06 22:06:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 33,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14066595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JD_Riley/pseuds/JD_Riley
Summary: Captain Cassandra Wick has been sailing the seas for years and carefully developing a reputation as one of the most brutal and vicious Alpha pirates who has ever hoisted sail. It comes as a surprise to her as much as anyone else when the discovery of an exotic little Omega slave in the cargo hold of an enemy galleon forces her to strip away the layers of her jaded shell to expose the tenderness she'd forgotten she held. With care and time, the Omega's secrets begin to leak out, revealing a treasure like none Wick has ever stolen before.





	1. Chapter 1

Tullis's first mistake had been to cross her. No pirate in their right mind would cross a woman so blatantly willing to drop everything for a chase and a hunt. Cassandra Wick was not an Alpha that one expected to escape from after any insult or injury and she was a prime example of why Machiavelli had once written the edict that one was to do no small harm to an enemy. If one was to harm Wick— _one should have killed her._ But Tullis hadn't killed her and now he was paying the price for what he had done, hunted down by the fastest ship in the Caribbean that skated along the clear sea and through the fair winds as if she were a fish with wings.

“Captain,” Rollo, her first mate barked at her, “Your quarry is close.”

Ah. Somehow he'd lost his speed and it would cost him dearly. It was likely that he would try to bring her about and fire upon her thinking his guns could outmatch her ship and thinking that she might wish to take his own from him. That was his mistake. She didn't want his ship. She didn't have any use for it.

She turned to Rollo with her small smile in place and gave her the order she was expecting. “Sink her.”

Wick's own brigantine, _Icarus_ , took minimal damage despite the almost constant barrage of cannonfire and perhaps, she thought, that it was to be explained by the almost pitiful sight of candlesticks embedded into her flank. Tullis had somehow run out of ammunition—perhaps from a prior battle with one of the Royal Navy's ships that patrolled the waters near shore. As a result, Wick sloshed into about a foot of water when she tapped her way down into the storage area that held most of Tullis's crates and sacks of riches he'd pillaged from the young settlements upon the last island he'd ransacked. It would take an hour or so for the damned thing to sink completely under the water but when she _was_ swallowed up by the sea, Wick wanted at least most of the treasures it held to be in _her_ coffers.

A few of her crew came down behind her and splashed about, helping each other immediately to remove the largest and most valuable looking pieces while Wick herself picked up and examined a rather expensive-looking set of dishware that she probably wouldn't take with her. It was much too fragile and the sea was a fickle bitch—there would be no breakable dishes where she was concerned.

She was so distracted by the finely painted edging upon the porcelain that she almost didn't notice the gentle and sweet tickle to her nose at first. It hadn't made much sense mingled in with the gunpowder that lingered in the salty air—something cloying and tasty that made her lick her lips with the memory of warm sweet rolls fresh from her mother's oven. When it hit her what she was smelling, her heart began to pound and she nearly dropped the dish, her eyes widening and her senses sharpening in the darkness of the vault while the seawater gently lapped at her calves.

“Omega?” she whispered half to herself. Her eyes searched hard and finally in the corner she saw him, huddled in the water and partially hidden by a few stacked crates, his eyes glittering with a powerful fear that was in no way unjustified. He was wet and trembling and about his neck was a thick metal shackle connected to a strong chain that held him fast to a loop beneath the water. He was clothed in nearly nothing and without proper meals, he had been reduced to the sharpness of his circumstances—stark cheekbones and glassy eyes. Still, he was an _Omega_ after months of nothing and he shied from her predatory gaze. She approached him, unable to appear in any form nonthreatening as he was huddled so low and she was naturally so tall. Conscious of it, at least, she tried to squat before him, her heart aching suddenly at his pitiful state.

_Had I known this beauty were locked up as no more than cargo, I should have gutted Tullis rather than merely slit his throat and toss him overboard._

“Omega,” she murmured, ignoring the small amount of her crew that had stopped to watch her with the fair little thing. The water was rising—they couldn't leave him. “I trust that you will not fight me if I free you?”

His trembling did not cease and she was half convinced that it was a product of the cold. When she had removed him, she would certainly place him in her own cabin and be sure that he was piled high with every blanket and quilt at her disposal. His bath would be the most luxurious with every expensive soap she'd ever stolen at his fingertips. He could soak and wash his long raven tresses that hung limply before his face, clumped with salt and the damp. Wick couldn't wait to run her fingers through that ebony silk.

When he didn't reply, she took the chain in both of her hands and stood, using the strength of an _Alpha_ to wrench the hook from the floor. With that finished, she crouched again and held out her hand. “I suppose, Omega, that you would rather not drown.”

His frightened eyes passed her and he looked at each of her crew that stood behind her and he did not take her hand.

Wick glanced over her shoulder. “Any of you touch him and I'll flay you before I keelhaul you until your blood calls the sharks.”

There was a distinct understanding that was apparent in their scents and none of them lingered, moving back to their original tasks without question and certainly without any opposition. They were keen to follow any order and that was why she was to reward them handsomely. Any woman who showed her abject loyalty was a woman who deserved reward and there was no pirate upon her ship that did not enjoy the riches she managed to come across. This treasure, nevertheless, was hers and hers alone and she turned back to him with that suppressed hope in her eyes.

His hand quivered even as he reached for her and when his soft, cold fingers met hers, he stared at the place he touched her. He was uncertain and terrified but the water was now nearly to his shoulders as he sat and there was no further choice than to let her take him. He made no sound.

“That's right, little Omega,” she crooned. “We'll get you cleaned up and fed. How should you like that?”

The glaze in his stare lifted somewhat and he allowed her to pull him up upon his wobbling feet. His gait was unsteady, as if he had never managed to gain his sea legs and Wick was left wondering how long the poor dear had been left down in these insufficient quarters to rot. How anyone in their right mind could have left an _Omega_ down in the ship's underbelly rather than warm and safe in their cabin, it was beyond her comprehension. How he had not been spoiled and pampered and given all of the Earth's delights, she could not fathom.

She carried him up the stairs, lifting him into her arms as he weighed nearly nothing and marveling at his gentle and desperate touch when he clung to her about her neck, hiding his face against her shoulder as if he could not bear to see the sun for he had been in the dim for so long. A shout took her attention and her gaze was caught by one of Tullis's men, a man among the lot of them who'd been rounded up on their knees to be left upon their scuttled ship or shot as she rarely gave quarter.

“ _Do not take him Wick!_ ” He was Tullis's helmsman and his expression was pained. “ _If you value your life you will bury him with us in the sea._ ”

She felt her lip curl and she took slow and careful steps toward the men gathered to die, her boots thudding over the hollow corpse of the galleon until she reached him among the smoke and spray. She smoothly unsheathed her sword from its scabbard and held the cutlass's point to the bottom of his chin to raise the Alpha's face toward the sunlight. “A cursed little Omega, I assume,” she crooned. “Someone's coveted little stowaway perhaps? An unlucky omen that will sink a ship through the blackness that follows him? Does he bring fear to your heart, Alpha?”

“He should bring fear to yours,” the man replied, staring into her eyes. “You are not far with your guess of a curse, Captain. Tullis thought him a treasure. Then a blight...but he could not be rid of him. Had I captained this ship, even I cannot know if I could have thrown him from the gunwales. But I urge you...you who cannot have drawn his ire—drown him. Burn him. Flay him. Gut him. Bleed him. _Kill him._ He will bring you a misery you cannot imagine if you do not heed my warning.”

“And for his heat?” she asked, increasing the pressure of the blade to his flesh until he took in a sharp breath through his nose. “You left him in the darkness alone and tied?”

“He is unnatural...he is—”

She slit his throat in a practiced and clean motion that surprised him. Dark sanguine blood flowed from the wound in a veritable waterfall and the light left his eyes long before his body tipped and became limp upon the wooden deck. She gazed up at the rest of them who either kept their eyes upon their knees or watched their helmsman perish. “Is there a man among you who will tell me the same? Or perhaps something else? Perhaps someone who has something of value?”

Another man spoke. “If you are to spare me, Captain Wick, I should give you map.”

Her brow raised to the man, a dirty Beta with messy blonde hair and a mischievous grin. She immediately liked him despite her inclination to kill him for even daring to speak. “A map, you say? And you are what? Tullis's navigator?” She tapped the tip of her cutlass to the buckle of his belt. “Or simply a wayward adventurer who was crimped to serve your cowardly master?”

“Perhaps a bit of both,” he smiled, his mild scent lost to her among the fear of the Alphas and the salt of the sea. “Tullis was a careless Captain and a voracious drunkard. He'd maps to hidden islands, caches of treasures...”

“And the particular map of which you speak?” she asked, her voice carefully trained to remain nonchalant.

The Beta's eyes flicked to the Omega. “An island. Where beautiful Omegas run free and wild.”

“May the Devil take you,” she laughed. “You claim he is from an island of naught but Omegas?”

“Speak to him, Captain. He cannot speak back to you. He knows no English. No French. No Italian. He knows no language of ours and cannot comprehend your speech.”

She curiously tilted her head to glance at him but his face was hidden against her, curtained by the damp and clumped tresses of his long raven locks.

“He is of a small island hidden close to Italy and the treasures cannot be counted nor measured by any Alpha.”

Wick found him terribly humorous and thoughts tickled her brain. “This map. You have it on your person?”

“I do.”

“And if I should strip you to your skin and let you feed the fish with not a stitch to your worthless corpse?”

“I should expect no less from you, Captain.”

She turned her sword to the man beside him who sat upon his feet with his head downward. She picked up his head and asked him politely, “And what say you of your compatriot? An honest man or a liar? Foolish, either way, have you known him long?”

The Alpha mumbled back to her. “A born dog, mum. 'E's a worthless piece o' dung and ye should hang 'im from the bowsprit iffin it should suit ye.”

She chuckled, tickled by the turn of events. Speaking to her shiphands, she happily chirped, “Strip the Beta.” Always happy to find a smug man brought low, she watched his grin falter and then die as he was untied and manhandled by the rough Alphas who followed her, his clothes nearly torn off of him until he was naked and kneeling again, his skin bronzed from work in the sun upon the deck save for the fair bits of him that almost gleamed from how pale they remained. She snickered at him as her crew searched his clothes and handed her a folded bit of parchment that had been tucked into his pocket along with a golden ring upon a chain. “Oh dear,” Wick mused, sheathing her sword and dangling the bit of jewelry from her finger. “A Beta's ring? A love? A tragedy? I should not deprive you. Perhaps you will not be fully nude.” She stepped forward again and slipped the chain over his head to let the golden ring rest against his tanned chest before she flipped open the map and studied it.

A few moments passed before he spoke again, lower this time and humbled by his state. “Admittedly, it is not marked, Captain.”

“You were Tullis's navigator,” she stated.

“I was.”

“And this island of which you speak. It is his home?”

“It is.”

She eyed her shiphands and tightened her hold on the tiny shivering Omega in her grasp. “Bring the Beta. Shut him in the hold with the rest of the haul for the night to let him feel what this creature felt. I want him alive so I can decide whether or not he is useful.” She turned and easily passed over one of the planks that led to _Icarus_ , near dancing her way to the Captain's quarters that were warm and quiet compared to the noise from their victory. Aside from the Beta, she had given her first mate instructions to spare no quarter and leave no room for vengeance. Inside only a moment, she expected the subtle knock upon the cabin door and she turned to find her fiesty Beta bosun whose teeth shined from her dark face often as she grinned more than she scowled.

“My Captain!” she told her, her words filled with raw humor alongside the swaying tides of her voice. “You were so sure of no survivors and yet I see two you have taken.”

“Never one to miss a thing, Nuru. I'll have to work harder to sneak them by you next time.”

“A bath then. Some meat, some wine. It will smell so sweet upon this ship and the gals will be so jealous of him in your arms.”

“Bah,” she replied with her easy chuckle before Nuru disappeared and she swept the frightened little Omega down to his feet upon the carpet. Here, she could take a good look at him and truly examine him in the glow of the lamps and the natural sunlight that came in through the porthole. He would stand out among her crew, she thought. Already, she could feel the draw of affection toward him and it was no wonder really that Tullis had thought him a treasure. He was small, tiny even, with slender shoulders, a pale complexion, and defined features that would perhaps soften once he was treated well. His lips were as two delicate petals, soft and pouted with his uncertainty under a dainty freckled nose and large dark gray eyes that seemed as though they could have conjured the storm whose color they'd stolen. Her words to him were soft and pleasant and she reminded herself of what the Beta had told her. He could not comprehend her. “Are you hungry, little dear?” She trailed her thumb from his temple to his chin and tried to give him a reassuring smile. “You'll be so terrifically beautiful when you're all soft and warm, won't you?”

He stared at her blankly as if searching her face for her meaning. He was still touching her, his hands resting gently upon her forearms as if steadying himself while the ship very slightly moved around him. His clothes were rags and clearly _used_ to be an Alpha's shirt tied about the waist with a sash. Wick wasn't quite certain if there was anything he was wearing underneath the dirty scraps and, for his part at the least, he seemed shameless of his near-naked state. It was rare for an Omega to be so candid about their bodies, she thought. Even the whores at port _played the part_ of a careful girl as to entice those Alphas who sought the chase as most did. She tried not to let her gaze rove to the place where his milky thighs traveled upward underneath the fabric, though she would have been a liar to say that she wasn't entirely plotting her way to his trust and his _heat_ already.

_But how will I manage it? He is so terribly small and he cannot understand me._

She bit her bottom lip while she thought and tilted her head while she did so, trying her best to remain as passive as possible. The door opened behind her again and the tub was brought to her, the Alpha hands following behind to fill it while Rollo came to her and diverted her attention from the tiny pale Omega.

“We've left the ship to founder. We can dump her stores in Port Royal and make our way again if you wish, Captain. We've plenty of ready crew and after a few good nights in port, they should be ready to take prey should you have something in mind.”

“A few days is all it will take to find where Tullis has left some of his stores and then we can sail for them. We've every map we could find from his cabin and if we've missed any, I suppose that's the last anyone should have ever seen of whatever the dog was stashing away.” She turned to the little one and moved to cup his face. He did not flinch though his eyes had turned to Rollo, wide and curious. He was still trembling a little despite the warmth when Wick murmured low, “You know, usually when I raid ships to find human cargo, they are not so few and never so pale.” She peered at the difference between his flesh and hers as she held his cheek and then drew her thumb over the soft skin under his eye.

Rollo was unmoved. “He is pretty, Captain. But the helmsman...he called him cursed. Are the crew so confident that he is not?”

She tilted her head in the other direction as she continued to study the little Omega, adjusting the salty tresses of his dirty hair and straightening how the rag of a shirt rested on his shoulders. “I don't think I much care either way. We've yet to tempt the Dutchman, we've yet to see a mermaid, and despite all that racket they make about the forecastle having been haunted, we've yet to spy any apparitions. To take an Omega aboard a ship should be considered just as unlucky as having Olya or Perryton aboard, should it not? And not a single woman has complained of having the two Betas aboard.”

Rollo shrugged. “You do not believe him when he claims the little one is unnatural?”

“Look at him. Exotic, perhaps. I see no scales. I see no feathers. I see nothing but flesh, blood, and beauty.” Moving slowly as not to frighten him, she slipped her fingers around the shackle at his neck and put her _Alpha_ strength into snapping it from his throat to let the chain and the heavy metal ring slither and thunk to the carpet. “He was chained in the hull of a ship, Rollo. It was my mother's lot as well as it was yours. Can you deny him a place among us?”

She shifted while she looked at him. “No, Captain.”

“I shouldn't think so.”

Nuru returned and Wick held out a hand for a glass of wine, content when it was handed to her and even more contented when the bosun bowed to the little Omega with reverence and humor before she presented to him his glass. “Go on, little one,” she invited him. “It is yours.”

He flicked his eyes to Wick and seemed comforted by her short nod to him and he took it, his hand only trembling slightly as he inched closer to the Captain, his free hand softly gripping at her shirt as he sought to be shielded from the amounts of Alphas around him under her arm. He brought the rim of it to his plush bottom lip and took a hearty sip of it, seemingly attuned to the taste and used to it.

“Ah,” Wick murmured, “surely once a pampered little boy and now a man accustomed to such spoils.” She grinned before she shooed the women from her cabin and was again left entirely alone with him. It was normally a circumstance that most Omegas feared—to be left alone with any Alpha was to be at the mercy of their whims. Especially a _pirate_ Alpha who had spent the last several years conquering the likes of other ruthless pirates and privateers who dared cross her waters with their deplorable wares. It was common now for men to whisper of her legend—Wick. The woman who stole her father's last name and commandeered the ship she bore over the ocean and flew too close to the sun and far too close to the wind. The daughter of her slave mother and her master father who, despite everything, managed to learn to read and write, managed to voraciously devour every book or scrap she could find. The woman who, upon presenting, fought for her own strength until she had found her place upon the sea.

She nipped at the underside of his chin with her thumb and forefinger to gain his attention and then she moved from him to tap the side of the tub, a gesture that was clear.

Curiously, he paused only a moment to look at her as if watching to see if she might begin to discard her own clothes before he decided that she was not and he set down his glass on the table brought for their meal that was forthcoming. He was careful with the shirt that had been given to him as clothing, removing the sash and the rags with care and draping them over the back of one of the heavy chairs Nuru had had brought in. Wick could have snickered at how he treated the horribly tattered bits of cloth but then again, she could not. She had seen men value much less when it was all they had in the world.

He was too thin. She could see his ribs and, just barely, the tips of his hips. Still, he was fascinating, turning again to the hot water while he paid no mind to the fact that she was openly adoring his nudity. In fact, it seemed as though he were just as comfortable now as he ever had been, completely naked and set to his task as though Wick were not even there. He climbed his way into the bath, sitting down and settling in up to his chin while his eyelashes fluttered and a contented sigh escaped him.

“Do you like that, little one?” she asked as he closed his eyes. “Perhaps I'll soap your hair for you,” she said, mostly to herself. With a cupped hand, she scooped water over his head, startling him for a moment before he settled back down and leaned into every touch she gave him as she massaged his scalp, his scent watered and muddled but still sweet along the surface of the bath. She came to her knees behind him and rolled up her sleeves to work the soap through all the matted clumps of his hair, leaving it shiny and loose where she had untangled every knot. When it was all finished and his hair was a rippling mass of raven wing cascading from the edge of the tub, she leaned forward and whispered at him. He didn't move.

Sitting back, a thought came to her.

_He cannot speak back to you. He knows no English. No French. No Italian. He knows no language of ours and cannot comprehend your speech._

Wick put her right hand out to the side and snapped her fingers once. It was a fairly loud pop of a sound yet the Omega did not react at all. She did the same with her left, carefully studying him for any hint of his notice. There was none. Carefully, she stood, and took three cautious steps backwards as not to alert him to her movements. The vibrations of an _Alpha_ voice could only go so far but the sound was all she wanted.

“ _Omega!_ ”

He should have tensed or scrambled at the deep and invasive tone that normally caused rising panic in any Omega's heart and yet—he did nothing. He was practically snoozing in the cooling water, his fingers playing with the line between the water and the air from underneath, tracing lazy circles and designs as if he had no care in the world.

“Hmph,” she sighed. “The Beta was half-right at least. It is not that you cannot comprehend my speech. It is only that you cannot _hear it._ ”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to J.D.'s second high seas adventure. If you've never been a part of J.D.'s fantastical world of FemAlpha, please keep your hands and legs inside the ride at all times and note that my FemAlphas are in possession of a _dick_. This is the only warning you're going to get and I will not be doing any other tagging.
> 
> This story is a century (give or take a few decades) before my other historical stories so keep that in mind as you're reading and if you're a sailor, please take care that you're polite when you tell me I did something horrifically wrong when describing anything sailing related.


	2. Chapter 2

He ate cautiously at first but at her urging, he picked at each portion of fish and bread until it was, every bit, consumed. Once she had dried his hair and given him a new shirt to wear, he seemed content though Wick asked for Perryton to come to the cabin at once as she was a fine seamstress. The girl, a soft-spoken though brutal Beta, took his measurements, jotted them down, and pledged to fit him within the week. In the mean time, he would be given what they could manage to find him—that was, he would be forced to wear Perryton's old trousers quickly shortened and modified along with one of her old shirts. Once those items had been delivered and Wick had managed to convince him to wear them, Olya came to them both with one of her ribbons to tie back his flowing locks and even, as he sat munching upon the tart he was given for dessert, managed to braid the river of jet from the side of his head until it could swoop down over the opposite shoulder.

For the whole of it, he seemed quite taken with his new clothes—though he had seemed just as happy to be entirely naked which was puzzling in itself. He was not content, however, to be left within her quarters while she made her rounds on deck and so he ended up following her, rather close at hand. He peered at every bit of the ship's workings and marveled upwards at the billowing white sails and the towering masts. His silvery gray eyes searched every nook and cranny and followed every rope that slithered through the air and coiled upon the decks. He watched the women working and at times, his movements swayed though it was not from their shanties but more from the rhythm of their work.

She didn't speak to him but looked upon him every so often and many times, she caught his eye and gave him a warm expression. Most of her shiphands looked upon him softly, smoothing their hair from their faces and smiling at him as though he were a particularly pleasant-looking flower. The strong ocean breeze stole his scent and whirled it to the heavens and, while Wick was with him, she couldn't help but hope that he would not take issue with staying not in the forecastle but with her. After all, it was anyone's guess how the crew would handle him, though she hoped that the rowdy bunch would have treated him like a prince.

_I know I will._

When she caught him staring out, wistfully, toward the open sea, she caught his attention with a touch to his cheek and he turned his head to look at her, curious and searching. She gently touched the tip of his nose with her finger as a tease and at his small silent laugh, she smiled even wider. Lord, it was good—she couldn't remember the last time she had smiled so and felt so free. It was as though the whole of the world had opened up its arms for her and she felt almost as though she could have done whatever it was that she wished.

_My heart feels as though I could fly..._

It was a wonder, she thought, that he could stay so close to her, be with her like he was, when he had been treated so horribly by Tullis and his men. There was something strange about it. That he had become so unfavored as to be treated as cargo but not _so_ unfavored that the Captain would be willing to throw him into the clutches of his Alpha crew. Though, she thought darkly, perhaps the talk of a curse would have ended him quicker than Tullis would have preferred and the young Omega would have fetched a decent price as a slave.

Rollo came to her, stepping to the other side of the Omega and staring at him with a flat expression.

“How is it that you cannot look at him and smile?” Wick asked of her. “He is so beautiful.”

“He is a temptation.”

Wick's smile didn't disappear but merely morphed into a smug little smirk. “I am not the only one who has partaken of the spoils throughout our history together...”

“You've yet to partake,” her first mate pointed out. “Perhaps you should scent him. I am certain the crew would not think to touch him, but it would be best, of course, if you would at least show him your intentions.”

Wick's brow twitched downward. “I suppose you're right. If there is no other means of communication, only matters of nature will do to show him...” She turned to the Omega and touched him to slowly and carefully have him face her as they stood upon the deck. “Oh...perhaps not here though. I should hate for it not to go well if he doesn't like the idea of my scent all over him.”

Rollo shrugged one shoulder. “It is your decision, Captain. What will you do with him once we are to port?”

“Well if he has any inclination of what he should like to do, I suppose I will let him do whatever he wishes,” she replied.

Rollo stared at her, her expression even flatter than it was before and far less amused.

“Ah. I've yet to trick you,” Wick mumbled, chewing her bottom lip. “You see, Rollo, he's _very_ beautiful.”

“He is a temptation,” she repeated. “A distraction.”

“And what Captain doesn't have a little distraction? A little vice?” She winked at her first mate and then chuckled at the answering eye-roll. When the Omega's head tilted up at her, the little creature still waiting for her to let him know what she wished of him, she reached down and lifted him so that his rear was resting in the crook of her elbow and his legs straddled her hip. With his arms around her neck to steady himself, she looked back at Rollo and grinned. “He's much less obnoxious than a parrot.”

“You'll never be able to keep him against his will,” the woman noted. “You're not that kind of a woman. You might be a right bitch, but you've never put anyone in irons who didn't deserve to be there and you've never taken a lover who didn't welcome you to their bed.”

“Shush,” she scolded, “you'll ruin my terrible reputation.”

“If you believe to have a terrible reputation among your crew, you would be sorely misinformed. Though I have never seen you with such a soft look in your eye.” Rollo frowned. “You are usually not so easy to read. Perhaps he is a little witch?”

“Hm, if he is, he has chosen the right woman to cast his spells on,” Wick replied laughingly. She turned her head to him. “Come, little one. We've a good nights rest to get to. Perhaps you will not be so averse to my scent after I've nibbled you a bit.” She made her last round to make sure the ship was running smoothly and then she took him to her quarters where she was happy to note that a small snack was prepared and waiting. There would be more of a selection once they had made it to port again, though the crew had managed to salvage some of Tullis's stores and it was most agreeable to her that there were some small oranges that had made their way to her table.

The little Omega waited patiently for Wick to put him down and then he scurried to the table, snatching up one of the round fruits and peeling it with fervor.

“Your favorite, perhaps?” she mused. “It will be terribly inconvenient to have you be silent all the time...though I suppose there are some things in life that do not require a voice.” Considering him as he made himself sticky with the juice from the orange, she sat down upon her bed and pulled off her boots, beginning the process of stripping down to her skivvies in order to sleep. Eventually, the process she took which left her in nothing but her shirt and her drawers had captured his attention.

He looked at her, his face unreadable while his sweet and salty scent wavered and shimmered with his roiling emotions. He was not frightened. She was across the room from him and she was almost nude. What was there to be frightened of when it came down to it? His eyes were riveted on her when she gently fluffed her hair with her fingers, her wooly locks brushing her shoulders and just barely tickling her through the thin fabric of her shirt without her waistcoat there to serve as a buffer. The Omega was curious, his head tilting when he noticed the way her shirt was open down to the middle of her, just below her breasts which were hardly hidden, her dark nipples clear beneath the white cotton.

She lifted a brow. This was the moment where she would normally ask her fair partner if they were enjoying their view and she had never before had a partner who was so new to her and so _different_ in their needs. Taking in a breath, she tossed her head, deliberately flashing her neck as if to entice him, an act that clearly intrigued him as he took a few steps toward her before rethinking his course.

For a moment, he frowned, refocusing his thoughts as his eyes dipped toward the floor and then back up to her and there was humor in his expression, as if he couldn't quite believe what was happening. Perhaps it had been that she was an Alpha flashing him her throat. Perhaps it was the absurdity of the whole situation for him—that he could have just as likely perished aboard Tullis's galleon only today and instead, he was the victim of a rather ham-fisted attempt at seduction. His mischievous gray eyes flashed with his interest and his playfulness as he pulled at the sash at his waist and then let the too-big trousers that hung on his hips drop to the floor. With only a shirt to barely cover him, he then took the ribbon out of his hair and finger-combed the braid from his ebony tresses so that his hair flowed free.

Wick wanted to get up and take him to her bed but she held herself steady, daring herself not to even so much as twitch when he was nude. He had been so earlier in the day and it had been a challenge then to keep her hands off of his pale body as much as she could as to remain distant from him. Now, of course, she did not intend to remain distant—not at all. His movements were purely sexual, the way he stood in relation to her and how he stretched and moved slowly as to give her the best image of his near-nakedness. She was almost drooling over the delicate underside of his bottom peeking out from beneath the shirt when he turned, the two white globes of his rump framing the barest glimpse of the dusty rose sac between his thighs.

“Oh Omega,” she grinned to herself. “You tease.” She pulled off her drawers slowly and watched him watch her as she did so. Half nude, she slid back further on her bed and lifted a knee to frame herself while she lay back among her pillows and stared, as if daring him to come to her. From where she sat, he seemed almost miffed at the idea that she would force _him_ to come to _her_ and she was terrifically amused by his mental grappling. The poor boy likely had never had to make such a decision—he was possibly always stripped of his choice in matters. Though, she thought wryly, where was his choice here? A bed or the floor?

Despite that she was sorely tempted to reach her hand down between her own legs to stroke herself, she withheld the impulse and instead merely patted the bed beside herself. She recognized the power dynamic readily and resolved that no matter how tempting this morsel was, if he betrayed any hesitancy, she was honor-bound to cease her affection.

And of course, as soon as she had patted the side of the bed, the poor boy's bottom lip was tucked between his teeth and there was a subtle though powerful anxiousness that flashed through his eyes.

 _Blast it all to hell._ She heaved a great sigh and reached for her drawers over the side of the bed and shoved them on before she pulled down the quilts and sheets and crawled under them, this time patting the edge of the bed with a more sympathetic expression that she conjured and held with a fair amount of conviction. It would not do to have him mistrust her so quickly after he had spent nearly the whole of the day with her as his carer.

With cautious steps, he approached her again and shed the rest of his clothes, letting the borrowed shirt flutter to the ground behind him before he reached the side of the bed and again paused, uncertain.

“Well, come on,” Wick told him, patting the place beside her again and then putting out her arms in a beckoning motion to him. It was obviously unfamiliar to him to have been given this freedom of motion and that alone gave him a little bolster to his courage. This was her true power. An Alpha was only as strong as she was cunning and Wick herself was only as successful as she was patient. He put his knee upon the side of the bed and then leaned forward, his mercurial nature forcing him to hesitate again before he moved forward and eased his legs beneath the sheets and quilt that she tucked around him, covering his nakedness with the attempt to bring him a sort of comfort. “Alright,” she murmured, still unused to having an Omega who could not be comforted by her gentle croon.

_Ah, improvise, Wick! What you do best!_

With a careful hand, she gently took the Omega's forearm and raised his hand to her chest. At the first, she could not bring forth what she sought but with a few deep breaths, she was able to bring rise to her soft and lulling Alpha purr.

He pulled his touch from her in his shock, as if he had never before felt such a thing before his stormy eyes met hers and he reached for her again. There passed several deep moments as he pressed his fingers and palm against her chest, curious as to the sensation and even more curious still of her examination of him. Close in the warm light of the lamps and the fading sunset hues that came through the porthole, he was even more beautiful, any and all of his minute imperfections smoothed away from his skin.

“How did you become so alluring?” she asked, letting him feel the vibrations from her chest in her speech. When his hand moved in his wonder to her throat she spoke again, “You're so wonderfully made. So filled with beauty. So ageless and enduring. How old are you, little one? Sixteen? Twenty? Are you truly from an island of naught but Omegas? A land of myth? Do you capture sailors and keep only your fair children and cast the others from the parapets to the stone? Do you banish them? Do you keep them locked away in a cavern with only scraps to eat?” She laughed at her own rambling and then smiled at the way he opened his mouth in a bemused grin. “Do you like that? A laugh?”

She was conscientious of the speed of her movements when she took his wrist with her fingers and moved it to her neck, slowly rubbing his scent to her and in turn rubbing hers onto him. He did not fight her and merely watched her as she did it, seeking to mingle their scents together and give him an unofficial sort of claim—an issue of protection more than anything else. When she took his other wrist and did it to the other side of her neck, he took her spare wrist and rubbed it upon himself, earning her smile.

“You are far too attractive, do you know that?” she asked him as he thoroughly scented himself with her wrists and then pulled the quilts up and over his shoulders, sinking down among her pillows and looking at her with a mild and warm expression. Smoothing his hair from the side of his face, she gave him the briefest and most feathering kiss upon his temple before she snuffed the lamp and settled in, allowing him space enough between them to remain comfortable.

“Mmm,” she hummed. “I suppose this will do for now, little one. You tempt me...”

He did not respond, as she knew he wouldn't, and only let out a serene little sigh in the darkness. A bizarre creature she had found, chained and left in the hull of a ship. Pale, mysterious, deaf, and perhaps even cursed. There was something certainly odd about him, she thought to herself as she lay beside him. Could it be true that he was from some lost island? Could it be true that he was _strange_ or _dangerous?_

 _Well,_ she thought nonchalantly, _I suppose we'll find out if I've my throat slit in the morning._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh ho. Double update? That almost never happens anymore.


	3. Chapter 3

There was very little light in the hull of her ship and the water barrels she used as ballast nearly obscured the poor chained Beta from view when she made her way down the stairs with her morning cup of tea. His arms were splayed to either side of him as he sat and snoozed with his head tilted against his shoulder, still naked as the day he was born. It seemed, Wick noted, that her crew had managed to take pity on him somehow as he was sitting not on the bare wooden boards that he should have been, but on a thick wool blanket that protected his bare flesh.

He stirred almost immediately when her heavy boots thudded on the floor in front of him and he stared up at her through his messy blonde bangs as humbled as a man could be after having been stripped and chained.

Wick stared down at him, sipping her tea.

“Captain...” he rasped, his voice harsh from his tired state and the strange way in which he'd slept.

“I'm not your captain.”

“You are now.”

She laughed through her nose. “Is that how easily your loyalty shifts? I should gut you where you sit but I wouldn't want to have to toss that blanket overboard with your sorry corpse. I could use that again.”

His mouth curved into a ready grin. “I'll thank your girl, Olya, then.”

Wick rolled her eyes hard. She should have known that with a man on board, the two Beta girls she'd brought around for their wiles and their talents would be tempted to capture a good peek at him. “You touch my girls, I'll have your skin flayed from your back.”

He rattled his chains. “I don't think you'll have to be concerned.”

She grinned back down at him, amusement dancing through her as he teased from where he sat, gaining confidence as he spoke even as he was nude. “How did you come to possess that map? Did you steal it?”

“Of course I stole it. Tullis had it stashed in one of his books and he was constantly fiddling about with it. When you've gone back and forth and back and forth as many times as we were doing, you wouldn't have been able to help it as I couldn't.”

She sipped her tea again. “Explain.”

The Beta sighed, thinking for a moment. “You see, Captain, Tullis was losing most of his marbles.”

Wick cocked a brow.

“It's true. It happened suddenly and that, I think, is the reason for all the talk that the Omega is in possession of some kind of a curse or is controlled by some demon. It was just after his heat that Tullis started acting...odd.”

“The Omega's heat somehow addled him?” she asked, interested.

“It wasn't just during. We didn't see him at all while it was happening—he was locked into his quarters and there wasn't a man alive was going to go in there to interrupt them. Lord knows what happened in there but just after, the first mate had confided in the helmsman and I that the sheets were crumpled and bloody and he'd ordered the poor thing, tired and weary, to be chained by his neck in the hull.” He couldn't exactly shrug in his position but the gesture was clear. “So they chained the little one in the hull and from that day on, Tullis was unusual in his actions...”

“Altering the heading,” Wick provided.

“Almost every other day. Sometimes he would have us set course due west and other times due east. There were a few times where we wouldn't bother coming about, else we'd be in irons if he kept us from furling sail. Sometimes he wouldn't notice and others he would burst out of his quarters and rave at us to turn into the wind.”

“I see,” she muttered, finishing her cup of tea and studying him. “So you're all of the mind that the Omega drove him into some sort of madness.”

“There was blood on the sheets, Captain, and I'm not of the opinion that it was our little one's.”

“Odd that you should not find on him an injury.”

“He didn't let us near him. He barely looked any of us in the eye. He stood about and muttered to himself, kept himself locked in his quarters studying maps, and barked out orders. Every so often, he would ask us all if the Omega was still locked away, as if he thought the little creature would break free somehow.”

Wick sat upon one of the water barrels, setting her now empty teacup down on another one while she listened. “And how do you account for all this?”

“I've no idea. But I don't take stock in curses and I know that makes me an odd sort of sailor, but I've never seen anything that defies an explanation. Have you?”

“Once or twice,” she admitted. There had been a few times where she had been certain that the shadows at night had not always been tricks of the light but when it came down to monsters and ghouls, she was not at all convinced of their existence as other seamen were. “There are some men who claim to have seen merfolk or the Flying Dutchman,” she grinned. “You've never seen a ship sail through the storm clouds?”

“Have you?” he asked.

“No. Mere flights of fancy for me, I'm afraid. Now what should I do with _you_ , Beta?”

He sighed. “If I've already survived your raid on Tullis's ship, naked or not, I count myself as a rare find...” He tossed her a wry smile. “As a _man_ , that is something.”

“What can I say?” she said airily, “you've a presence. That ring about your neck. A wife?”

“Ahh, so the Captain Wick has a weakness,” he teased.

“If you really think so, I'll gut you here and forget about saving the blanket.” She gave him an Alpha growl and bared her teeth a little until he'd dropped his smile.

“She's not my wife,” he told her. “She could have been. I was going to propose to her a few years ago when I was snatched up and found myself forced to work on one of these goddamned ships. Pulled right off the street, I was. When I finally found my way back home, I'd found her married to my best friend and everyone having thought I was dead.” He grumbled bitterly, his brows hard together. “Now here I am and I've been across the sea so many times and under so many flags...privateer, pirate, merchant, who cares?”

“And what do you think of us pirates?” she asked.

“I don't care if you're a pirate. I don't care who I'm sailing under. If you gut me and toss me into the sea like the rest of them, at least now you know I've not left anything of importance behind. Not that you needed a clear conscience, but you should have one when it comes to me.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “What's your name, Beta?”

“Carson. Leslie Carson.”

“Carson,” she muttered to herself as she slid off the barrel onto her feet again.

“Do you intend to leave me down here, Captain?”

She paused for a moment and regarded him, a pathetic form as she'd seen many men before. “No. I'll have one of the crew bring you your clothes. Then you can find Olya. Follow her orders and I won't have reason to feed the fish with you.”

He sighed through his nose and closed his eyes, the tension in his body releasing at her words. “Thank you, Captain.”

“Don't thank me yet, your life is still in my hands.”

“I'm of a mind that I may owe it to you...” He cleared his throat. “After all, you're not known to be merciful.”

“Do you not deserve mercy, Carson?”

“What pirate deserves mercy?”

She didn't answer his query. It needed no answer, of course, she decided. On deck, she found everything to be going swimmingly as they neared port. Perryton caught her eye and cocked her head in the direction of the peculiar little Omega who had woken cuddled into her side that morning, his black hair again swept into a braid that hung over his shoulder, the bits that had managed to pull loose flying about his head in the ocean breeze. He stared out at the sea as if he were old friends with it, basking in the sunlight and enjoying that simple though beautiful scene. Wick went to him, coming behind him and gently brushing his shoulder with the backs of her fingers to let him know that she was there.

His response was nothing short of precious, she thought warmly, as he stood straight and turned to her, gripping her shirt in his fist and pressing himself into her. She wrapped her arms around him and pecked him on the top of his head, taking a moment to enjoy the lavender of his clean hair before she merely hugged him tight.

“Mmm,” she hummed and he put his cheek against her chest, smiling hard at the vibrations she created. “Oh you like that, little one? Well one day I'll know your secrets...I'll know what you did to Captain Tullis to drive him mad.”

Nuru's voice sounded behind her and she half-turned, holding the Omega to her while she did so. “Mad, you say? Tullis?” Her constant grin was fully accounted for now and she gave a small bow to the Omega. “Little one. I hear you cannot hear me! No matter,” she stated happily, “you will see we mean you no harm. Though if you are to drive Wick mad, we will have to sternly reprimand you.”

“Is that all?” Wick asked with a laugh, tickled at the way the Omega smushed his cheek to her chest to feel her chuckle. “If he were to drive me to madness, then perhaps I will become more coherent.”

“Ah, a funny Captain,” Nuru teased. “We should be coming into port by afternoon. Will you have him stay on the ship or should you like him to accompany you?”

“He can do what he wishes, he is no one's man but his own,” she said. “If he should like to come with me, he may.”

“Still my Captain Wick,” she laughed, giving another slight bow to the little one before she disappeared to complete her duties.

“They like you, Omega,” she told him softly, her voice lost to the wind. “I don't think they should ever be concerned with a curse. Well...” she tilted her head a little. “Except maybe Rollo but she'll come around.” She stood with him tucked against her until they had drawn themselves into port and it was only then that she moved from him and showed him the option of leaving the ship with her. He shied back at first but with Nuru's gentle touch upon his shoulder, he took Wick's hand and she felt his relief though him when his feet finally found purchase on dry land. Unlike the wobbles that the sailors tried to hide when walking on land for the first time in weeks or months, he was quite at home, as if he had spent no time at all upon a ship.

He drew stares no matter where he walked though being nearly stuck to Wick's side helped him avoid most of the more covetous glances as they moved through the shady portions of the docks to procure several goods which were not often found among the stolen loot she took from the slavers and rival pirates or privateers she sank to the bottom of the Atlantic. Her normal fence, an older woman with almond eyes and a ruthless gaze was hidden from most, having to be roused from her hammock by Wick's bellowing voice.

“ _Mama! I've some coin for your sneaky little paws!_ ”

“Ahh!” Mama shrieked as Wick came fully into the small wooden shack that served as Mama Zhao's front—a small fish stall, of all things. She emerged from a cloth door in the back dressed in beautiful embroidered blue silk, her hands up and her first words a spattering of broken English patterned and melded with the delicate formations of her home language. “My _Alpha!_ ”

“No need to flatter me, Mama, you know I don't need any of that from you.”

The Beta scolded her with a rigid finger wag. “You don't tell Mama what she can do! All you tell Mama is how much _treasure_ you have brought me.” The woman noted the little Omega at her side and gave a hard “tsk.” “You...I know you do not deal in flesh. I have seen this boy before!”

Wick felt a strange pulse in her heart. “What?” She looked to the little one as he peered at Mama cautiously, studying her intently with those huge gray eyes. “You've seen him before? When?”

“Weeks ago. There was a man here. Wanted to sell him.”

“Only a fool comes to Mama Zhao selling souls,” Wick scoffed.

“I was the last he could come to!” she told her in a shrill tone with a shrug. “There was none others who would have him and I do not blame them!” She spat to either side of herself. “Cursed!”

Wick laughed. “Mama, you don't believe in curses.”

“You don't tell Mama what she believes. When old Chinese lady tell you of a curse, you believe her, Alpha.” She nodded to herself several times and then turned to the little Omega. “Cursed!”

She gazed down at him, finding him staring back up at her with his brows only slightly knit, his face innocent and guileless and his form small and unassuming. He was a beautiful Omega, that was certain, but what Wick couldn't see about him at all was how anyone could possibly take a look at him and see how he should have been cursed. “How do you know, Mama? How do you know he's cursed?”

“You remember Goldie!”

“Your canary? Of course.”

“I walk back to back room, I come back, Omega is near cage and Goldie— _dead!_ ”

She rolled her eyes.

“No, no, no! No trader here takes this Omega! You take him back to sea. Take him back to where he came from. I don't want to see him again! You give me your treasures now and then you take him home!” She shook her finger again at her. “You promise me, Wick. You promise to take him home!”

That Zhao's bird had died at the wrong moment was one thing. That no trader in Port Royal would take him was another. There were _plenty_ of men willing to hand coin over for a beautiful foreign Omega—why would none of them take him? She quirked her mouth to the side. “No one else, huh?”

“Take him home!”

“Alright, alright. It's enough to hear you, you little witch. I'll have the girls bring you my wares and I'll take the little one home.”

“He brings storm!” she said, fussing with her delicate little things that lined her wooden shelves. “Storm coming. Happened last time he came—he is bad luck, Wick. Stay in harbor for now. Storms come tonight.”

“I just came from open sea, there's no storm coming.”

The woman turned a harsh glare upon her. “You listen to me, Alpha. Or you will find yourself like all those other captains who thought they could keep captive the devil.”

“Alright, alright,” she said, guiding the little one outside again before she picked him up to perch him on one arm. “The devil, hm?” she asked him, smiling and taking joy in the small grin he gave in return. “You don't look like how I've always imagined the devil lookin',” she told him softly. “Of course, they do say sometimes that he is beautiful...and you are beautiful, my love.”

He put his fingers to her lips, imploring her with a tilted head.

“What?” she whispered, letting her breath puff over his fingers. “What would you like, little demon?”

A heavy breeze hit her from the sea and as she looked upward toward the east, she frowned at the growing black on the horizon. It drew near slowly and surely it had manifested from nothing for they had just been out at sea. They should have known if there were rough waters or a slow-moving behemoth stalking the port. Her stomach clenched and she stared at the gathering of storm clouds then turned her gaze back to the pale Omega in her arms as he followed her line of sight to stare out at the distant gale.

“Have you done this, little Omega?” she murmured. “Have you brought the tempest upon us? Or are _you_ the tempest?” Still pondering the wild notion, she walked with him to board _Icarus_ once more, ready to batten down the sturdy brigantine and spend the worst of it all tucked up warm in her bed with the odd creature. “No matter,” she muttered under her breath. “Perhaps you'll take mercy upon me should I deliver you home...how should you like that?”

Of course, he could not reply. He only stared, solemnly, out toward the water and the storm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bleh! I'm sorry for any weird mistakes you find or for any awkwardness at all, I honestly was writing all of this at really weird intervals because life got a little bit crazy there for a minute. Fortunately, I still managed to finish a chapter. I wasn't sure it was gonna happen but it did. Thank you for reading, I hope you're enjoying it so far.


	4. Chapter 4

The storm was intense and _Icarus_ groaned in her moorings, pitching one way and then another as the waves crashed into her sides. The crew was about, some hunkered down and some making certain that nothing was to go awry during the worst of nature's fury. For Wick, a storm was best slept through, though as Captain, she was obliged often to stay by the helmsman's side and bark orders alongside her. She had wished—more like hoped—that the Omega would take the storm in her cabin though he was not keen to do so and she felt the first prick of anxiety for him when he tapped his way through the driving rain toward the stern. Though seawater and rain washed over the deck and should have pulled his feet right out from under him, he danced as if he had no care. As if he were weighted by some kind of magical pull that kept him from losing his foot's grip over the wood.

Through the haze of wind and rain she could see him smiling as he swayed with each motion of the vessel, his form coming to rest upon the gunwale as he leaned outward, allowing his hair and his body to be soaked and whipped by the stinging beast of a storm. It was almost as though he were no happier than when he witnessed nature's mighty fury and there was something warm that sparking in Wick's heart when she witnessed him. Undaunted by the roaring thunder and the forking, webbing lightning, the little Omega captivated.

Rollo came to her, the heavy hood of her canvas over her head while she yelled over the gale winds. “ _You're certain he's not the devil, Wick?_ ”

She laughed and pushed her coxswain aside with a playful but strong shove and watched her footing while she crossed the deck, riding each sway and pitch until she could reach him and come behind him. With only a touch, she had succeeded in drawing his attention which he turned back on her with a wide grin, his cold hands coming to hers and placing them on his cheeks so that she might see and feel his joy. He turned about again, opening his arms wide to the sky. It took her a long time to persuade him to follow her down the companionway to her quarters and when she had successfully stripped him nude and taken the braid from his hair, she dried him thoroughly.

“I could swear it was you who'd brought this tempest upon us,” she told him laughingly as he wriggled in her arms, still grinning and naked. “Since you cannot tell me your name, I suppose I'm free to call you whatever I wish to. And since we have met under such circumstances and I think you will be much trouble for me, I will call you _Tempest._ Surely this cannot be your ire, this storm, though perhaps it is a message from some patron of yours.” She cast her eyes up to the ceiling. “Any patron should know that I am fully intending upon returning this treasure to his rightful place.” It couldn't hurt to voice it, after all there were far more pirates in this world who were more than willing to _remove_ people and things from their rightful places.

She put him down and then grasped his hands as small, breathy exhales left him in an odd rendering of laughter that was near to producing sound but never did quite get there, leaving him as wheezing sighs. As he smiled wide, she moved him across the floor as if dancing with him, coaching him through steps until he had found himself in a soundless waltz. He was curious, amused, and entertained no doubt, and Wick was more than pleased.

“Have you never danced, little one? Were you born this way? Unable to enjoy the beauty of dance and sound?” She paused their dance, sweeping him up as he stumbled so that his eyes were level with hers as he clung to her and she held him. “You are so small and light. I cannot help myself but to carry you. I cannot fault Tullis or any other captain for thinking you a treasure or a prize. Your eyes, your mouth, your hair—it is all as if a lure for me. As though I am a fish and you are the angler.” She thought for a moment. It had been such a long time ago the last she had felt this tightening in her chest when she looked at anyone.

_A golden hateful sun in the Carolina heat. The dirty hem of her dress heavy from the mud puddles of last night's rain. Looking at Robin like he might be able to save her from the switch that stung the backs of her thighs. Staring down at her feet and asking God why He had to shape her this way—why he had to put life into a clump of Earth and name it Cassandra. Why He let that horrible paper devil touch her Mama enough to bring forth this sorry little piece of trash with no true father. Robin couldn't save her. He might have been sweet on her but he couldn't save her—not really. The only person alive who could save little Cassie Wick was Cassie Wick herself._

She tightened her hold on him, tugging one long tendril of his hair until she could put her forehead against his, letting her wild black hair brush his smooth jet locks. She murmured to him, overcome with a foreign emotion that was surprising and unwelcome—a nostalgia that was jarring and horrible and a caring affection that warmed her. “ _How do I know you? How do I discover who you are? You cannot tell me._ ” She stood there for a few moments, feeling the hot sting of tears behind her eyes until Tempest persuaded her to look at him with a searching touch to her neck.

He scented her lightly, rubbing his wrists against her throat while she eased back from him. After he was finished with this, he wriggled a bit until she was forced to let him down to the carpet where he shuffled to her writing desk and looked over her notes. He politely shifted them as she came behind him and picked out the old parchment map showing what was presumably his home in the Mediterranean. He turned to her, staring up at her with wide gray eyes, his finger pointing softly to map.

“Yes,” she nodded. “Should you like to go?” She tilted her head, conscious that he must know she was asking a question.

He gently tapped at the map again, nodding his head at it, his eyes imploring as if he were hoping she was asking what she asked.

“Alright, little one. We can go.” She tapped where his finger was and nodded again before she decided that for good measure, she gestured to herself and then to him and then tapped the map again.

The relief in his expression was immeasurable. He put the map down upon her desk again and then turned to her, twining his arms around her waist and sniffling into her shirt while she held him. His scent was whirling about her, filled with hopeful apprehension—chaotic and complex. Who knew how long he had spent away from his home? Who knew how he had come to be so lost? Stolen from his home like so many others—like her mother had been.

She lifted him again and then deposited him on the edge of her bed, scenting him thoroughly as the rainwater had washed him nearly clean of it. When she was finished, she watched him as he put his hand to her chest, imploring her to purr for him. It was difficult to conjure—for some Alphas, it was a matter of extreme contentment and for others, they could not manage the sound at all. But with a few stuttered tries, she brought herself to a deep and resounding purr and was grateful for it when he placed his head against her chest.

_How have I gotten to this point? How can I sit here with this naked little Omega and allow him to touch me like this without flipping him to his back and taking him?_

Wick blinked and then gently moved with him, easing him to his back above her quilts while he held his head against her, only removing him when she was looming above him as some apex predator. He lay back among the pillows, tilting his head to the side to bare his throat in submission—a response that was enough to make her salivate.

She kissed him then, very softly placing her lips upon his until he was moved to respond, his fingers brushing over her cheek, her jaw, and her ear as he kissed her back with a timid submission. It was the way an Omega should respond to an unfamiliar Alpha and she cursed in her mind, frustrated and uneasy. It was only too simple for her to rampantly plow the Omegas at the many ports who flaunted their bodies and gave favors for coin but this? He was not innocent—it was only that he was so damnably uncertain of her and for that, she could have slaughtered any who had made him this way. Should it be true that he had come from an island of Omegas, the abuse at the hands of any Alpha would have been enough to produce this sort of wary caution in him.

_I'll murder any Alpha who should lay a hand to you._

She nibbled against his throat and the lobe of his ear before she shifted to nip at his collarbone. Scenting his uncertainty with a full breath in, she brought herself up on her knees while straddling his thighs and she motioned to her mouth, tapping her bottom lip before she took the same hand and very gently lifted his small member, cradling it in her fingers and rubbing the tip of it with her thumb. He gave a slight gasp and then looked up at her again while she repeated the motion, asking for his input on whether or not he should allow her to take him into her mouth. At his tentative nod, she slid at once down the mattress and spread his legs around her, crunching down into a position wherein she could comfortably spend the time to please him as best she could.

His sharp breath in was music to her ears when she spent her first minute between his thighs lapping at him with the flat of her tongue, hardening him until he was fully rigid. Only then did she pop him into her mouth, content to swallow him whole while he gripped at the pillows, his body giving an occasional shiver while she pleasured him. She suckled the tip of him, the musty flavor of his arousal a nectar for her and her kind— _Alpha._ He was beautiful, his hair tossed about his head in shining black waves, his bare chest heaving with every struggling breath as he rode through the tides of his passion, his thighs trembling while she held them open beside her.

The first sound she ever heard him make was that which came at the crux of his pleasure, when his orgasm crashed over him and his head tossed. An odd, inhuman sound that struck her with its discordant notes— _notes._ It was almost as if he were crying out with more than one voice. Not only that but the sound of it—stunted and basic as it was, seemed suddenly so inexplicably _beautiful_.

Wick popped her head up immediately, forgetting entirely that his spend was in her mouth when she opened it, letting it spill from her lips and dribbled down her chin while her mind scrambled for purchase on something, _anything._ It was as if she had been kicked in the stomach, choked by an unseen force, and called. Called. _Called._

She was frozen, stunned, her whole body tingling and fuzzy, as if it had fallen asleep while her brain flashed through vague and distant memories and her emotions filtered between calm and panic. She felt as though she had been struck by lightning—a true shock that had sent her reeling into an obscure realm of her own sanity. As the buzzing slowly faded, she swallowed, recognizing that she had dribbled Tempest's spend onto the quilts.

_It is no wonder Tullis was driven mad. It is no wonder you are said to be cursed. Your voice is the thunder of angels and you cannot tell me not to be afraid._

When the world swam back to her, she sat up, finding her muscles wobbly and foreign. He was curled into a tiny ball among her pillows, staring at her with an unrestrained terror in his eyes, aware of how his voice had affected her and fearful of what she might do to him for having heard it. She blinked, shaking her head to dispel the rest of the strange effects and wiping his spend from her chin.

“W-Well...gracious,” she tried, clearing her throat and putting a hand to her chest to calm her rapidly pounding heart. “That was unexpected. To say the least, you understand.” She shook her head again and looked at him. His voice was a masterful power and as pieces of thought came to her, she wondered if any had attempted to harness this. She was not tempted in the least and suddenly it came to her that she _must_ bring him home. There was no other option. She could not let him wander, adrift, with such a wonderful and terrible ability that in no way belonged in the open world. Should there be an island with naught but his brethren, they should remain there untouched, perhaps forever. “I'm going to bring you home,” she told him, reaching out for him and allowing him a flinch before she gripped his wrist and brought his palm to her chest, purring hard and heavy until he practically melted with his relief, clinging to her and nuzzling her throat and her chest in silent apology.

_He knows what he does. A voice from an Omega that can captivate and, dare I think it? Enslave?_

As she moved him beneath the covers and pulled off her clothes, she was given pause by a thought that would haunt her, she knew.

_Is this how an Omega feels when they are struck by our Alpha voice? Is this the power we wield in such a cavalier manner? Is this something I have done?_

* * *

It nagged at her, the notion that he had been taken and used by men like Tullis. Wick was a pirate, that was to be certain. She was ruthless and to some, she was considered to be cruel...but she was not entirely devoid of emotion and certainly not when it came to this vexing creature who followed her about upon the deck and hid behind her when she approached Carson who was shadowing Olya and keep his professional distance to her in a surprising show of respect Wick had not foreseen. When it came to her Beta girls, she was especially wary of men about them.

“Captain!” Olya bowed. Her stance was tight and respectful, her arms behind her back.

“Captain,” Carson said, giving his own loose bow.

Wick put her hands on her hips as Tempest stared around her elbow at Olya who smiled at him. “Mr. Carson, I'll need you to assist Olya in setting our heading. We've finished up all our trade at port and we'll be on our way. Since I didn't quite have a destination in mind, I thought we might design our goal as...” she flitted her gaze over her shoulder to the little one. “As his home.”

“You're certain, Captain?” Carson asked.

“If you'll spend your time second-guessing me, Beta, I suggest you take a walk down the gangway and find yourself another ship.”

Olya passed him a smug little smirk and he ignored it, tilting his head to look down at the Omega.

“A fine little gentleman he's turned out to be.”

Wick patted his head, admiring the whorl of his bun and the hair that escaped from it, slithering in soft tendrils around his pale throat. He was a vision, his too-big shirt billowing and gaping at the front to allow her covert glances that revealed his smooth chest and the peek of his pink nipples. The sight of him and the fragrance of their mingled scents was enough to spur on the faintest tingle of her arousal and she proudly puffed out her chest. “A man cannot look a gentleman in chains, can he, Mr. Carson?”

“I suppose not.”

“And if a man has a home that his sick for, he should be given every chance to return. Even if those returnings are not as warm as they would wish them to be.”

Carson stared at her, a warning in his eyes. “Will you be able to let him go, Captain? When the time comes?”

“I hope so, Beta.” She left him then, turning about and hearing the patter of Tempest's feet behind her. She had gone to shore and purchased him a pair of boots but he had not even attempted to put them on, much more suited to running about barefoot. She checked in with Rollo and she and Tempest spent most of their day on deck as they negotiated _Icarus_ back toward the sea, the sun shining and the sky a perfect blue. With sails unfurled and billowing, they set course to cross the Atlantic and with all that underway, Wick lifted Tempest to perch him on her arm as she stood with him at the bow, his thighs around her midsection.

“I'll bet you've seen the whole world, little one. The whole world and then some. And now you're ready to make your way home.”

He nestled his head into the slope of her shoulder and rested his cheek upon her as he stared out toward the open water, a wistfulness and a hope in his scent.

“You know...” she murmured, “I should not be surprised at you. You are a wonder, of course. When someone comes across a bit of a treasure, it is always a fanciful notion that perhaps those simple gold pieces are part of something dark and large—like a curse, I suppose. But you...you're not cursed...”

“Captain.”

She turned a bit and Tempest did not move. Rollo stood by her side, her expression placid. “The Beta and Olya have charted course. I know how you feel about your plans but we have been together for a while now, Captain. Perhaps I am far more superstitious than you are...”

“You have seen far more in your time than I have,” she provided generously. “Tell me what you know of angels.”

“Little,” Rollo told her. “Where I come from, we have no angels.”

“There was a woman,” Wick explained, “In America. She taught me to read, to write, and she gave me a Bible and told me these fantastic stories of God and angels...”

Rollo was frowning. “A religion of...”

“Of the masters.”

Rollo spit, her scent metallic with her anger.

“So it goes, there are demons and angels and celestial wars and how she told me angels are—they are so terrifying yet they are described as being captivating but so much that they must tell the people of these stories that they should not be fearful of them. They have many eyes, many arms, they are described in such horrifying ways and yet they are called _beautiful._ ” She gazed back out toward the horizon.

“You are not sounding yourself, Wick.”

“I think, Rollo...I have seen something I ought not to have seen...or rather, I have _heard_ something I ought not to have heard.”

“What did you hear, Captain?”

She stared outward, uncertain and muddled, her thoughts passing over the memory of the sound of his voice, a multitude of notes that seemed beyond this realm. Something terrible and alluring at the same instant and the more she analyzed it and digested it, she knew what that sound was driving her toward and fear prickled down her spine at the mere thought of having to hear it again. And yet...still...she was curious. She wanted more of it at the same, the emotions twisting and twirling with her indecision.

She heard her own voice as though it were far away from her, speaking to Rollo while her grip tightened upon Tempest.

“ _I heard angels singing._ ”


	5. Chapter 5

They were far out to sea when he began smelling just a little bit sweeter and Wick awoke that morning with his nude body draped over her, his nethers nestled against her belly while his thighs straddled her and his legs flopped on either side. He was delightful in his slumber, his breaths quiet and even and his face that of an angelic beauty though he slept in such unique positions that she was enchanted by him. He had not, as yet, allowed her to make love to him in the manner that she had hoped, though he was familiar with her body and very keen to share warmth with her, finding the heat of her body a lure for him that he did not often spurn.

She spent the morning running her fingers through his hair and petting him, trailing her fingers over his naked shoulders and tickling over his ribs until he wriggled and huffed out a small noiseless chuckle through his nose. Wick wondered what his laugh sounded like. Was it a horror disguised as beauty as was the small cry he had made before? Her curiosity was still growing, itching at her to make him cry out again but he would not. No matter how many times she had put her mouth to him, he was far more careful, only allowing his breath to catch when he spilled in her mouth or in her palm.

With affectionate touches, she brought him to support himself on his arms over her and she inhaled his wicked sweetness—an encroaching heat that was only too obvious when he was shut away in her quarters like this. Forced to be in such a small cabin with him, she was especially sensitive to the alterations in his scent and as she appreciated it and him for all she could, she frowned at a shine in the flowing tresses of his hair.

“What is this?” she murmured to herself and partially to him, running her fingers through his hair until she had fetched from it a _feather_ that was as raven black as his locks. “Where in the world did you pick this up?” The birds that were often found circling her ships were not those of the crowing variety and were more those of the shrieking sort...and not only that but they were mostly _white_. “Am I to somehow have it suggested to me that angels come in a variety of colors?” she laughed. “Where in the world would you have come across a feather of such an inky nature? She tapped the tip of it against his nose and he smiled at her, reaching for the feather and grasping at it, running his fingers over the soft planes of it until he was wisping out the afterfeather and holding it up by the hollow shaft at its base. When he was finished with it, having preened it by its lonesome, he dropped it to the floor as if he couldn't be bothered by it anymore and he took to nuzzling at her face.

“Oh,” she smiled. “You aim to distract me.” She ran her hand through his hair again and again to her surprise she found another small black feather shed from his hair. “What in the world?”

He nuzzled her harder and when she was again entranced by this feather, holding up to her face for inspection, he took it from her, quickly preening it before he again dropped it to the floor, his expression that of annoyance with her fascination.

“Dearest,” she told him with explanation. “You've feathers in your hair.” She made a small motion, splaying out her hands and and waving them in a synchronized motion to represent wings. Leaning over, she picked up one of the feathers only to have him pluck it from her fingers, preen it again, and then toss it to the floor in a huff. “This is not new to you, I assume,” she noted softly, in wonder at him still.

In spite of everything, the Alpha did not press the matter, coming to the day with a focus on him as she watched him pull on his new clothes that had been made for him—a perfect fit—and pull his hair up messily with the ribbons she had given him. It was obvious that he was not so practiced at the art of hair and it was often that his attempts to tie it up were quickly fixed by Olya or Perryton who were not so shy about touching him as the Alphas were. He had gained his sea legs rather well though he still refused to wear boots, skipping along the deck and climbing the rigging with a fancy bit of flex-work and a near-obscene fearlessness that had shamed plenty of her hardened crew.

She oversaw all of the needs of her ship and her crew, spending her time with the navigators as they kept to course and standing beside Rollo in a tense and watchful pose as ships glided nearby in passing. It was rare that she was engaged by anyone though sometimes a powerful Spanish galleon might have the gall to use its naval might against her for sake of the price on her head. It never ended well for them and it was just as well when those ships mistook her for a common merchant and went about their business as usual.

When another ship came into view on the horizon and Nuru had spotted it with her keen eyes, she looked through the glass toward it.

“An American ship?” Rollo asked, speculating.

“British,” she growled. “Hull full of souls, if I'd had to guess.”

Nuru jutted out her chin. “We've the room. Though they'll have to chance where we can drop them.”

It had been only a few months since their last scuttle of a slave ship and surely there was plenty of rumor left of their frightening ability to do so—a crew of black women, nearly a myth in the winds of the sea, swinging from rigging to cut down any man who dared cross the waters with the devil's touch to their work. Their small ship would reach the coast of Africa in a few days and having so many souls aboard would be difficult but not impossible...

A black feather floated down from the crow's nest where Tempest was letting the wind sift through his hair and it brushed briefly over Rollo's nose before it found purchase on Wick's shoulder.

“That is...strange...” Rollo quipped. “A black feather...”

Wick picked it from her clothes and held it up. “You know...I suppose I ought to tell you that your misgivings about him have so far been entirely valid.”

Rollo lifted her brows in surprise. “Captain?”

Nuru looked at her as though she had grown a second hed. “Since when are you the Captain who will tell this no-account Alpha that she was right!” She laughed and tapped Rollo's chest with the back of her hand in jest. “Tell us what you mean, Captain, before I toss you into the water so we might get our old Captain back.”

Wick smiled. “He's odd. Tempest.”

“Well we knew that,” Rollo told her with an eye-roll.

“I've found these feathers in his hair.”

Nuru took it from her, examining it with a careful eye. “An omen, perhaps?” When Rollo held her hand out for it and twirled it, Nuru said, “A normal feather and yet you suggest it come from 'is own little head?”

“His heat is near,” Wick told them.

Rollo narrowed her eyes. “What do you say? That he is growing feathers for his heat? You suggest he isn't human?”

The three of them stood together, a triangle of minds, staring at the feather in Rollo's fingers before another one floated to Wick's hair and Nuru picked it out.

“Perhaps...” Nuru mused, “he is not.” Her gaze turned out toward the ship on the horizon, growing larger with every minute. “But they are.”

“Then we'll liberate them,” she announced. “But only if I can see beyond a shadow of a doubt that this _is_ a ship with souls aboard.” Satisfied, they broke ranks and alerted the crew of their decision—one that was always received warmly. The thrill of the fight was something these Alphas could not get enough of and when the British ship had come near enough to tell that there was no mistaking its purpose, Wick ordered them to raise the black flag. It rippled ominously in the wind daring the ship to ready its meager guns. It was weighted, of course, the water rushing only feet under its gunwales due to the stress of its human ballast. There was no manner in which this ship was going to be able to fight _Icarus_ as she flew through the waters so as they neared and there was no white flag hoisted, Wick ordered her crew to hoist the _jolie rouge._

“Let them come to think about this,” she murmured to herself, casting an eye up to where Tempest sat in the crow's nest, the flutter of his black hair the only thing visible to her. Another small feather found her, as if attracted to her somehow through fate and she plucked it from her jacket to give it a small kiss before she let it drift off in the breeze. She barked orders, ready to engage the sons of bitches until at the very last, she caught sight of their white flag hoisted upon their mast. “Ah. Come to their senses, I suppose,” she mused. It was often they did. After all, there were few things a captain feared more than the retribution of former slaves. “Board them,” she ordered and the ship was hauled by ropes to the side of _Icarus_.

She strolled over the sleek and well-tended deck of the enemy ship while the crew was rounded up and brought to their knees before her, the Captain a serious man who was left standing for Wick's convenience in chatting.

“A beautiful day, is it not, Captain?” she asked him, examining her nails.

He was a fearless Alpha and had spent many years at sea. “I suppose it is, Captain Wick.”

“Mmm,” she mused, closing her eyes and enjoying the way he said her name. “I suppose you know your ship is loaded over capacity.”

“By orders, Captain.”

“Do you enjoy such a thing? Transporting human cargo?”

“No, I've got to admit I'm rather sickened by it. But not all of us can afford to do otherwise. What of their fate in their own lands anyhow?”

“A land cursed by the guns of the British, you mean,” she snapped.

“Yes. That is what I mean. Do you think I would have fought you for them? Lost them to the holes in my hull for my pride?”

She frowned, unused to this reply. “Tell me something, Captain Vanguard...what should you do if you were to lose your ship?”

“I would go home to my husband and thank the moon and the stars and God above that I was able to keep my life...and the life of my crew.”

“And your cargo?”

He paused a moment, scanning her before he gave a sigh. “I would likely think of them often.”

“Them?”

“They are people, Captain Wick, are they not?”

She turned to Nuru. “Make certain that Captain Vanguard and his crew are set within their boats with a compass and enough rations to last them a few days. Only a few days. I should like them to know what it means to be helpless for a little while at least.”

Vanguard dropped his eyes to the deck. “Thank you, Captain.”

“That is for your surrender...” she lowered her tone. “And for your respect.” When Wick was just about to turn away, she moved back to him with her brows firmly together. “Captain...are you a superstitious man?”

He seemed surprised at the question. “Not particularly, no. Though I was part of the Royal Navy for some time and I've heard some tales.”

“An island...off the coast of Italy. An Island of nothing but Omegas.”

He shook his head. “I'm sorry, Wick. It's nothing I've ever heard of.”

“Hmph.”

“Honestly,” he continued. “It sounds a bit like a Greek myth. An island of Omegas? Paradise or hell depending on their dispositions.” He chuckled a bit.

She sighed. “Nevermind, Captain.” For the first time since she had laid eyes upon that map, she suddenly doubted herself.

She gave orders to Nuru to halve the crew and to take them aboard the other ship in order to guide her back from the direction she came. The food left over from Vanguard's crew would be distributed below deck to the poor souls who'd been left to starve. The willing men and women who could would help her crew and learn to sail would be taught and those who had spent far too long in irons could finally be brought into the sunlight.

_Could it be that it is only legend?_

Black feathers, she thought sharply, falling from his hair. A trick of some kind or the mark of a true beast? What sort of devilry could conjure something that seemed so far like an omen? They were certainly not news to him and he was nonplussed to find her fascinated by them—almost insisting that they were to be ignored or thought of as entirely normal.

_What sort of creature could he be? If not angel or devil—perhaps the kind of monster that does come from Greek myth._

“Captain,” she heard Nuru say, jolted from her thoughts as she paced back and forth upon the slave ship's deck. “We have told the men and women who you are and they would like to give you thanks.”

“Very well,” she said.

There were tears. Plenty of them. There were languages that she couldn't understand and others that she could just barely only because of the patience of Rollo and Nuru having taught her the most basic of words. By the time she found herself back upon her ship, she smelled like a hundred unwashed bodies and the grief and relief of dozens of priceless souls. Overwhelmed, she could not have been more grateful for having found a hot bath in her quarters courtesy of Olya and the sweet near-heat scent of the Omega curled up in her bed. His clothes were neatly folded upon the chair set aside to the tub and when she got into the water, she took his sash and held it to her nose.

“Oh lord, Tempest. You are so sweet.” She assumed him to be sleeping and as she washed herself and rid her skin of all the foulness of the day, she was more than ready to come to him and take in that ever-strengthening scent of his nearing fertility. She was not the kind of Alpha who lost her mind during any Omega's heat and she was intent _not_ to bring harm to him. Though, she had to admit, she would be very hard pressed not to lick him from head to toe.

Wick rose from the bath dried herself before she approached the bed, his heat scent growing stronger by the minute and the closer she got to him, the heavier the scent. He was surely right upon it, if she was not mistaken and he was curled in upon himself under her sheets and quilts.

“You've been losing more feathers, it seems,” she mused, picking up several of them and discarding them to the floor to join the others from the morning. “Tell me, little one, tell me what you are.”

She eased the covers back to expose the black of his hair and as she did so, she found the pale shell of his ear and then... She rubbed her thumb over his cheek where it had seemed a smudge had found its way. But not a smudge. A fine stripe of tiny feathers that had grown from his skin to line his cheekbone to frame his eye. It was vexing enough to have feathers coming out of his hair and now she was looking at this sight with something of bewilderment muddling her mind along with his heat scent.

“Tempest?” she murmured, pulling the covers back even further to find that he seemed to have grown a veritable _mantle_ of feathers. “W-When...did you...when did you manage _this_?” she asked him, somewhat breathless in her wonder. She felt as if someone had almost punched her in the gut, unable to fully breathe for the stunning sight. Not only had he grown this mantle, the sleek black feathers smoothed down onto what she saw to be two neatly folded _wings_. “Goodness—” she huffed, unable to speak any further when he sheepishly gazed up at her as if ashamed of his own appearance. Her shock must have been apparent in her expression and her scent but there was no way for her to hide it. He was utterly _changed_ and there were only bits of him that were left quite human—the pretty pale skin of is chest and belly and the dip of his hips but his _legs..._

She backed away from him, finding the sight of his bird-like legs to be too much to comprehend. Bending unnaturally backwards and ending in slender scaled talons, they were a dark gray color and curled against his body.

_Tullis's blood,_ she thought wildly. _He had been overcome by lust and sought to have him...those talons would have ripped through any man devil enough to try..._

“T-Tempest...” she breathed, finally able to find her voice again. “What...what _are you?_ ”

She didn't expect an answer as she stared at him, feverish and sweating, his body heaving with his panting breaths and slick just beginning to trickle onto the sheets from under his crow-like tail. His form was so shocking that she stood helpless to the sight until he finally looked up at her, his expression that of a desperate wild animal. He struggled among the sheets, unable to find purchase for his hands and arms were now those frightening wings and after he struggled, he lifted his eyes to her once more.

And it was then that he _screamed_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh dear. We've gotten to this point already!


	6. Chapter 6

There was a reverberation that surrounded her. She understood where it came from. His motivations weren't difficult to figure out. The poor boy was frightened. Unfortunately, the power in that scream was far too strong for Wick to handle and even that she could recognize. Her heart flew into her throat at the instant of his vocalization and though she felt as if she _could_ have maintained control, she _didn't_. Her feet stumbled backwards as the rending of her thoughts continued and the scream, however short, still echoed in the chambers of her mind. She may have made a sound and in fact, she must have when she clapped her hands to her ears and fell backwards into her bookshelf, tomes tumbling out of their proper places and thudding over her head and the floor.

Everything was faded and fuzzy there was a compulsion she could not ignore prodding at her, willing for her, _calling for her._ She tried to fight it as those bizarre black wings flapped and fluttered, creating terrible gusts that sent the parchment on her desk rustling onto the floor. As she crawled weakly across the small cabin, she felt the pads of his little bird feet against her naked shoulders, his body so light that it was as if she were carrying no more than a stack of blankets. He was flapping wildly as she dragged herself on her hands and knees to the edge of the tub, her fingers dipping into the warm water.

_There's only one way to get it to stop. Stop it. Stop it! Get out of my head!_

The terrible scream that sounded as though a thousand voices were calling out at once was relentless, the effect of it ringing and ringing and ringing inside her mind while her ears refused to hear anything beyond it. She knew he wasn't screaming anymore—it had been a short fearful little shriek but it was all she could sense. It was everything—a mire of blackness that had invaded her soul through her ears and there was only one way to get it to stop.

She dragged herself up and let her whole head fall into the bathwater.

_Just a little longer. Just a little. Just a little longer and it'll go away. Please, God, go away._

Tempest was clawing at her back, his feet tapping over her and his talons digging at her flesh as he wildly flapped above.

Her lungs began to burn. The urge to breathe in was enormous.

_Peach trees and sunbeams soaring down from between deep heavy gray storm clouds over fields in Carolina. Her muddy bare feet in the soft loose soil between the rows and rows of leafy tobacco. Watching the crows as they flew up from the distant forest at the edge of the plantation and wishing she had wings so she could fly far and away. Why should that be so difficult a wish?_

_“Dreaming again, Cassie?”_

_Robin was bending down, pretending to rake at the soil so as not to attract the attention of the Gilger brothers who roamed through the field with their riding crops and their whips, threatening to put collars on you if you didn't do right._

_“Is it a crime to dream?”_

_“Ain't no sense in dreamin' when there's weedin' to be done.”_

_She gazed off at the forest, a portion of it lit dramatically by the warm sunbeams as thunder cracked through the atmosphere and rumbled over the landscape. “One of these days you're all gonna wake up and find me gone.”_

_“I hope not.”_

_She frowned down at him. “Why's that?”_

_“Because I love you. Hate to see you torn apart by Birch Gilger's dogs.”_

_She stared at him before she crouched down next to him, keeping her balance with the hoe in her hand. “Say what?”_

_“Birch Gilger's dogs.”_

_“No. Before that.”_

_“I love you.” He said it like it should have been the easiest thing to confess in the world and of course he said it with that little shrug of his shoulders that meant it should have been obvious._

_“You think you love me.”_

_“No, I love you. There ain't no thinkin' about it.” He was crouched down next to her with his mouth in a smug little smirk. “Cassie, you are without a doubt the strangest girl I ever met. And despite everything. How I got here, how life's been turnin' out...well I think I found the girl of my dreams.”_

_“You don't know what love is,” she scoffed, reaching up and adjusting her wide-brimmed straw hat as a ray of stray sunshine opened up over her through the storm clouds. “You're a dreamer just the same as I am.”_

There was a crash somewhere that forced Wick to tumble back, her lungs filling with air as the world span and span and erased the tobacco fields and the peach orchard. The way Robin smiled at her was wrenched from her mind as she shook her head and lukewarm water spilled from the heavy cloud of her hair.

“R-Robin!” she coughed, her lungs burning as she was pushed upward by a strong pressure on her chest and shoulders. She fell backwards onto the carpet of her cabin, laying tired and wet, her ears ringing maddeningly as she stared upwards and tried to grasp any part of that memory and hold it tight to her. She coughed, her stomach muscles tensing and cramping with the effort as she pulled in stuttering breaths and tried to make sense of the world around her.

_I'm Captain Wick. Cassie is the girl in my past and Wick is the Alpha of my future. What in the devil is happening right now?_

She sat up and found him, water sloshed over the soggy carpet and his strange bird-like form completely soaking wet as he crouched in what was left of the bathwater, wary and upset.

“God...” she sighed, rubbing at her eyes and taking stock of herself. “I nearly...I nearly _drowned myself_.” Even now her ears were ringing but it was nothing like the resounding screams of torturous madness that had echoed in them before. “And of course you pushed me out of the bath,” she said to him, giving him a hard stare and a gentle nod of her head. “I suppose something like _this_ might be enough for a man to be driven mad...”

Tempest cowered further, clearly expecting to be chained in the hull.

Wick eased to her knees and put her hands out, palms up and nonthreatening. She left them there when he cowered back further and waited until he had eased a little before she brought them to his jaw and gently placed her lips upon his forehead. She whispered to him though she knew he could not hear it. “ _You are a creature of wonder, little Omega._ ” Very slowly and very gently, she moved him so that his head was against her chest and she conjured a slow and deep purr.

His scent was intoxicating. Sweet and pure, it lulled her and excited her even just following an experience in which his voice itself had nearly led her to death. Despite his monster-like appearance, he was _still_ very much an Omega and her body responded in the manner most proper to her instinct.

“You're all wet,” she told him laughingly as he relaxed against her, the scent of his fear and nervousness waning even as he trembled still. “Is there anything so pitiful as a sopping little bird?” She took him and patted him with her fluffy towel, sitting with him on the floor and moving to touch him in a more familiar manner that should not frighten him so that she might become used to his odd form. “Are you excited by me, Omega?”

He did not seem overly lustful though the scent of his slick was heavy and he leaked near-constantly. Though as Wick examined him, running her fingers in exploratory motions over his body and maneuvering him so that she might find his rigid little cock, she was taken aback.

“You are full of surprises, little bird,” she marveled, moving him though he wriggled to the bed and laying him down upon his back among the pillows. With his bird feet in the air and his oddly shaped legs spread open, she took his member in her hand while he bit his lower lip to keep himself from making a sound. Running her finger from the tip of him to the base, she marveled and deduced that perhaps an island of naught but Omegas was _completely plausible_. After all, Tempest had managed to transform into a bird-like creature and had also managed to form a small _knot_ at the base of his cock. “A knot, little bird? Is this how an island of Omegas finds their pleasure in each other? And am I to assume that you may have the ability to sire children as well?”

His scent was turning the air around her into a spring of desire and with ever soft touch she gave to him, his lust increased. Though she had just dried him, the pieces of him that were not covered in feathers began to shine with his sweat and he arched his back, seeking her touch, his wings easing out and splaying as far as he could get them as he soundlessly begged for her.

“You've certainly done a number on me tonight,” she scolded him, the tickle of a smirk on her lips. “Scratched me all up but good, you have. And I suppose now you'll want someone to fill you up.”

He stared at her, his eyes beginning to cloud over with the glaze of his need.

Not without a small amount of smug appreciation for herself, she came to him between his legs, the bend of them so that the backs of his thighs rested against the outer of hers as his talons remained awkwardly poised in the air. She took him in her hand pressed the length of her against the length of him, watching him where lay propped among her pillows to see about his emotions on the matter. She was quite a bit larger than he and her knot swelled to nearly twice the size of his.

“Should you be terribly averse to feeling how it might fit inside you?” she nearly panted, her rut in full swing. She stroked them together and his head lolled back, baring his sweet little throat while he heaved and sighed. Wick shook her head a small amount and laughed at herself. “God...I'm trying to fuck a man who's half bird. Please, little Omega, make sense of this for me. Tell me you want me to plow you.”

Slick seeped out of him and he sighed again, heavy and lustful.

She moved to press against his wet entrance and he twisted his head to stare at her, his mouth open as he panted and his eyes expressing a desperation she recognized. She pushed forward, his body more than ready for her though tight all the same. His lip trembled and he closed his eyes, tossing his head to the side as she opened him with her length, taking him slowly and with care. The tight, hot sheath of him around her was driving her half to madness, her nerves sparking with messages straight to her spine that tingled in her hips and groin. She could feel her own feminine wetness dripping from between her legs, mingling with the mess of slick that had soaked the black feathers of his tail.

“This is what I've been waiting for...” she groaned. “This is what I've wanted. All it took to get here was a near-death experience, huh?” She laughed at herself again, the tightness in her belly causing it to sound breathy to her own ears. She impaled him, sinking deep inside him until her knot was against his entrance and at the brush of it, she felt him tighten and tense. “You don't think you can take that knot, little bird?” She wished he could hear her teasing but since he couldn't, she lowered herself to drape over him, coming between his wings so that she could press her lips to his. “ _Kiss me, little one. I want you to know me._ ”

He was timid though he was familiar with kisses and he opened his mouth to her, willing to accept her probing tongue and eager to set a slow and languorous pace to their lovemaking. He was not like most of the other Omegas she had come to during their heats, rampant with their desires and desperate in their motions. He was cautious still and seemed to have his wits about him—though if she was correct in her thoughts, these particular little ones perhaps must decide who was to play the Alpha, thus requiring such a calmed state of mind. She kissed him with a pleading manner that was partially to calm him and partially to assert her dominance, pressing and pulling with her tongue to tell him exactly what she meant to do to him—lead him to unimaginable pleasure.

She held his hips so as not to find herself pulling upon any feathers or leaning on any part of his large wings as he lay beneath her. With the purchase she found there, she arched her back and began a deep and slow thrusting with her hips. He did not make any sound, thank the heavens, though he did move against her, wriggling as best he could and baring his throat in submission.

“That's right, little bird,” she told him against his ear as she moved inside him. “No sounds. Take it as it comes, I've got you. I've got you, love.”

It was impossible to reflect on how any of this night had occurred and she had a feeling that for the whole of a week, she was going to be at a loss on how she had ended up with her body buried within this perfectly odd creature. From nearly drowning in her own bathtub she was now making hard thrusts inside him, stretching him perhaps wider than he had ever been stretched before, opening up his hole and inciting within him a flame of passion that he must keep leashed lest his voice tear out every wit she ever owned.

“Did Tullis ever dare to spear you, little bird? Or did he let you writhe in your misery until he was compelled to rape you? Did he frighten you? Please don't be frightened of me.” She huffed against his neck, taking in his alluring scent and letting it fill her body with electric pleasure. She felt herself coming to the rise and she pushed hard against his overly slicked hole, the wet squelching sounds of her knot easing him open forced a salacious sigh from her throat and she moaned against him, the vibrations of it driving his scent to spice even further with his greed for her. “It's not so big, Omega. You can do it,” she assured him despite his deafness. “Please, you can do it.” She rocked against him, her knot begging him to open, to take her inside him fully and squeeze her until she couldn't think any longer, pleading for a milking that only an Omega's small body could handle. “ _I want to breed you. I want to fill your belly with my seed. Please, little bird. Please._ ”

There was the softest of sounds that came from him when she pushed harder, a very quiet little pleasured noise that was just barely above a whisper and at hearing it, she took in a sharp breath of his scent, wrapping her arms tight around his waist as she rocked forward again, her knot sliding into his body like a key within a lock as his body clamped down and locked her tight within him. The soft vocalization was cut short by his hissing climax, a scream that was silent and naught but a slow breath. He convulsed with it, his wings flapping around her and spreading as far as he could reach them before they were folded back to frame him.

Even that soft sound he had made was enough for Wick's mind to reel and pulse with it, the impulse to throw herself from the edge of _Icarus_ to find an elusive freedom paramount to all else save one thing—him. She held tight to him, buried inside and burning with the remnants of her powerful orgasm that had filled his little womb with her seed.

“ _Please, little bird. Please,_ ” she begged him, grunting with the force of a second climax on the heels of her first that tightened her body against him. She wished so fervently that he could make a sound that would not send her into the voids of her mind but that wish was merely that and nothing more. He could not speak to her. He could not tell her how good it felt to have her full and straining knot inside him, impossibly large and inciting him into spasms of release. They panted along with each other as the at once angelic and demonic voices faded from Wick's senses and left her alone in the silence with him. She couldn't remember the last time she had begged like this to someone. Was it in Carolina? Was it upon some ship to a Captain that had crimped her? She couldn't remember feeling so absolutely at someone's mercy like this despite the juxtaposition of the power she held as Alpha.

_What power is that, Wick?_

“No power,” she murmured into the shell of his ear. “I have no power with you.”

She lowered her head down to the pillows next to his, weary suddenly from the stress of his voice and the intensity of their lovemaking and felt his wings come around her to envelope her in the shining ink of darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wowza! We've already fucked a monster and it's only Chapter 6. Damn, girl. Nothing like a near-death experience to really get that rut going.
> 
> If you're interested in following my tumblr and getting more information on further writings, make sure to check it out at [J.D. Writes](https://jdwrites.tumblr.com/).


	7. Chapter 7

She was aware that she smelled like sex and Omega when she slipped out of her quarters to find something for the two of them to eat. Fortunately, the winds that were whipping through the sea air took most of the scent with them and allowed her to only give small snippets of scent to her crew. They eased around her, eager to catch wind of the pleasant heat so that they might imagine their next conquest upon making port. It was evening though fairly early and the moon was full, shining in the clear night to light the deck with a wash of near color-less wonder.

Nuru caught her with a broad smile. “Captain. Are you ready to eat now?”

“I'm ready to eat. Where is Carson? The Beta.”

Rollo spoke to her from the helm as she leaned upon it. “He is probably drinking below deck. He has lost nearly every game of strength but he does well with the games of wit. Do you need him Captain? I will have them pull him up for you.”

“No need. I'll go down for him.”

“You shouldn't,” Nuru told her. “You'll have every woman on board panting and ready to fight for your little one.”

She didn't want to bring the Beta too close to Tempest but then, what else was she to do? Sure, there were private places one could go in a ship but perhaps it was best to simply be out with it and should he betray her confidence, she would kill him. She shrugged. “Alright. Some food and the Beta. To my quarters, Nuru, if you please.”

“Certainly, Captain,” she replied cheerily, walking off and leaving her alone with Rollo.

The woman's gaze was penetrating. “There is something off about this. You are thinking about something very hard and though that is not strange for you, Wick, that is worrying to me. This is about your little Omega. I smell blood.”

“It's my blood.”

“He's harmed you somehow?”

“He's a bird. Mostly, anyway. His talons are not so little.” She realized that what she said must sound absolutely mad. Rollo must think her somehow descending into insanity. “I realize what this sounds like.”

“It sounds like you have had a stressful day.”

“He's a bird, Rollo. He has wings. Talons. Feathers. His voice is the thunder of demons or angels or...or something else.” She shook her head, unable to place it. It was unlike anything she'd ever witnessed. A voice that called to her to end it by any means. A voice that told her without words to throw herself from the edges of her ship or sink her head clear into the bathwater. A call for her to destroy herself by any means... What could it mean? What could he be? “I've never seen such a captivating monster...” She laughed. “I have not seen _any_ sort of monster. Until him.”

“He was chained in the hull of a ship for a reason, Captain.”

“I know that reason. But he means no harm. He is not malevolent.”

“He is not harmless either, I gather.”

Wick looked down at her boots and then back up at Rollo. “No. He is not harmless.” Though, she thought, he probably wished he were. She turned around and walked back to the companionway that led to her quarters and entered the warm room, heated by his body's radiating waves of energy. She felt as though she could have nearly been bowled over by the intensity of his heat scent, sticky and powerful as it was. He was sleeping soundly, sated and filled with her seed, covered nearly entirely by the quilts and curled on his belly in the center of her bunk, his bird-like feet nestled against his chest and his wings folded serenely behind him. How he slept half like a bird and half like a man was mystifying but unsurprising.

There was a soft knock on her door and when she opened it, Carson stood outside, his blonde hair tousled and his expression wondering. “You called for me, Captain?”

She wordlessly opened the door further to show him inside but he hesitated.

“I shouldn't intrude...”

“A heat isn't anything unnatural,” she told him. “You're no threat and you're in no danger. From me.”

He nodded as he walked into her quarters, eying the lump under the quilts of her bed. “Am I to answer for something?”

“You are here to elaborate.”

He shifted his eyes to her.

“Tullis was changed after the little one's heat. You said there was blood on his sheets and he was constantly changing course. It was to get to this island.” She moved to her desk and leaned upon it, crossing her arms.

In the dim light, Carson appeared unnerved, his mild Beta scent completely overpowered and lost to the the Omega in the room. “Do you find yourself a changed woman, Captain Wick?”

“I think I know what unraveled him. I could show you, if you think yourself a well-traveled man. Are you a man who may know a fair bit of legend?”

“Legend? Such as sea monsters and Davy Jones?” He scoffed. “Those sorts of legends?”

“Perhaps.”

He frowned. “I think it best if you ask me what you're wanting to ask me, Wick.”

“Heard you anything of a man with wings and talons?”

Carson looked at her, puzzled. His gaze moved to the bed and he took the few steps to get there, grasping the quilts before he pulled them back and gave an audible grunt of surprise. He staggered backwards, obviously unsure of what he was seeing. “What...what is this?”

“He's a bird. Part bird. I've called you here because I've reason to think that you might have known what he was. Or how I am to get him home without his brethren driving us all into the sea.” She went to him, tucking the quilts back around his sleeping form. “He cannot hear us—he hasn't the ability. His voice is the cry of nightmares and it'll send you leaping from the bow just to end it. Know you anything of this? Does this sound familiar to you?”

The Beta's face immediately flattened into a severe expression. “I sailed once under a man named Galanos—a Greek. He was difficult to understand sometimes but when he was ready to tell you a tale, he was as well-spoken as any Englishman. I sailed with him long enough to hear the tale of Ulysses.”

“Ulysses?”

“A great king who fought in a great war long ago and upon his return from war was cursed by old Gods to be waylaid. He was brought up against every beast you can imagine and seduced by immortal beings.”

Wick smirked. “I believe I've heard tell of this king. It sounds like quite the tale.”

“Certainly it was. Galanos spoke once of an island but he did not tell us _where_ it was to be found. Ulysses was warned of it...to have his men block their ears with beeswax so that they could not hear the song of these creatures that resided there.”

“And they were birds?”

He took another glance at Tempest where he slept. “Mostly. They are said to be confoundingly beautiful. Ulysses had his men tie him to the mast of his ship and ignore all his orders to release him just so that he could hear them sing. Sirens. Sirens are what they're called. Galanos said that they were terrible creatures, that their island was home to a meadow filled with bones. Their voices were said to be so beautiful that they would drive sailors to crash their ships among the jagged rocks.”

Wick sat on the top of her desk and regarded him solemnly. “And how do you suppose one might go about reaching this island without having their ship destroyed?”

He paced in the small room, seeming suddenly excited. “Incredible...I-I...I don't know. Beeswax, I suppose. Perhaps he does not simply fly there because he has wings only during his heat. You don't suppose there is any treasure to be found there...they perhaps do not have any value of such things? What could their communities be like? Primitive, you think?”

“He is intelligent, Beta,” Wick murmured, her rumbling voice low. “He is not a monster. He is a man—most of the time.”

“To grow wings, to have a voice that can drive men into the sea...the power he must hold.”

“The curse he must bear,” she corrected, drawing his eyes. “I intend to bring him home, Beta. He does not belong with us.”

Carson quit moving about in his excitement, nodding seriously. “I understand, Captain. This...this will be dangerous, surely.”

“Is life upon a pirate ship anything other than dangerous?”

“I see your point. Though I may only hope that you do not find yourself cursed by Poseidon and left to drift with the rest of us. I should hate to see us running from one-eyed giants or sucked into maelstroms.” He laughed though it sounded nervous as he ran his fingers through his already-messy locks. “I suppose you'll continue to...to make him happy until we can release him. I suppose we should all work to avoid his ire...or perhaps avoid him entirely.”

“I suggest that you keep this information to yourself and continue to navigate to the best of your ability. I have not known you long, Mr. Carson. I should rather not like having to keelhaul you should you betray my trust. After all, I'm told that Olya has taken a liking to you.”

His cheeks grew dusty pink under his bronze tan. “I assure you, Captain, I've no illusions about her.”

“She could kill you in a heartbeat.”

“I know. It serves only to make my attraction greater.”

“I'll send you to your maker should you touch her.” She growled, baring her teeth.

“And should she touch me?”

Wick lifted a brow. “If you put a child in her belly, you'd best have a plan to care for it. I should hate to lose her for your inability to tell her that your limit should be only to put your mouth to her.”

His flush grew deeper and he cleared his throat, staring down at the floor. “Yes, Captain. I understand.” He tossed one more glance over to Tempest before he left then, making his way back to the forecastle.

“Well...” she sighed to herself as she looked back over toward her sleeping lover. “A Siren then. Not that it tells me very much since I've not the knowledge of such creatures. Though it is always better to have a name.” She got up from her desk and came to him, pulling back the quilts and discarding her clothes before she poured water from a pitcher into a glass on the table at the bedside. She gently roused him and he took a sleepy few sips, dribbles of water coming down to his chin as he drank. “That's right, little bird. I can't have you shriveling up on me.”

His feathers poofed outward a bit in his mantle and he shook out to dispel heat, his tail quickly shaking back and forth and spraying a small amount of slick over the already-sodden sheets.

She came over him and pulled the quilts over her shoulders while she curled her body over his and straddled him in order to drape over him, his silky feathers soft against her breasts and his body sleek and fragile beneath her. “Confoundingly beautiful, he said,” she murmured against his neck. “He was right, you know. You are precious. Sublime. I could devour you and be not sated. How can a man tease me so unknowingly?” She kissed his ear and smiled at him when he stirred again and cracked an eye. “Are you hungry for me, little one? Perhaps hungry for true food? Nuru has left us a platter of duck.”

He shifted and she lifted herself up to let him wriggle free. With strange movements, he nearly tumbled out of the bed, rising to stand on his bird-like legs and turning about with his little cock risen to attention. Standing, he was a sight to behold, his wings a little outstretched and his hair flowing about his head in tangles. He was sleepy and aroused and he scratched at the floor with his talons.

“What do you need, little one?” she asked, admiring the little knot at the base of his shaft.

He approached her, nodding his head to her and stretching out his wings as if she were to make an attempt to escape. They were large and unwieldy it seemed though he used them to his full advantage as he came to her, his eyes darting between her legs and then up again as if he expected her to fight him.

“Oh...” she laughed, cautiously spreading her legs. “I see what you want. You want to play Alpha with me. Well I suppose you don't have very many lady Alphas wherever you're from so I suppose I should help you then.”

Normally Wick would have killed a man for making such an attempt. She'd heard of how male Alphas sought to dominate their female counterparts by taking them and _reminding_ them of how they were born as _women_ _first_ and _Alphas second._ But this little one—he meant no such harm and truly, what harm could he do with his small shaft? It was only natural to him to play as the dominant partner.

“Should I show you what you should do with me?” she asked, smirking at him and reaching between her legs, easing her hard member to the side so that she could use two of her fingers to spread open that part of her which was very much _female_. She doubted that he could bring her to release in such a way but it was never wrong to pleasure an Omega addled by their heat. If they were of the mind that they were keen to bury themselves inside you, that was probably what was for the best—especially for her now with a creature who could send her reeling into the sea with as little as a cry.

He stared at her hungrily with his wings outstretched and his breaths shallow and panting, looking down at where her fingers had spread her open and where her body glistened with feminine dew.

“Well come on now, little bird,” she told him, turning so that he could come between her legs while standing. “That's right,” she crooned as he came between them, hovering over her with his wings still outstretched as if she were to still try to get away. She helped him as he came forward, sliding his little cock inside her until he'd nudged his knot against the rim of her. “Mm,” she smiled, “I bet you've just been itchin' for that, haven't you?”

His breaths deepened and his hips flexed with every small thrust he made while she forcefully tightened around him, squeezing her muscles and reveling in the way he gasped and sighed. She had never taken a man inside her before and the sensation was certainly different—much different than how she had once imagined when she had thought of Robin. She sat propped up, watching him with affection blooming in her heart while he worked against her, rutting his length inside her until he pushed hard.

“Mmm!” she groaned, feeling his knot press hard against her until it gradually pushed inside and her body swallowed it. “Oh, that is very different, certainly,” she laughed at herself, propping her weight on one arm while she moved to stroke his cheek with the other. He leaned into her touch, still pounding himself against her, his body curving over her until he had moved his wings around her where she sat on the edge of the bed. “That's a good little Omega. Are you going to come?” For a moment, his knot pulled out of her and she heard him gasp a little in surprise and affront until he readjusted himself and pressed back in while she encircled his hips with her thighs and encouraged him to continue. “That's alright, you're alright,” she told him softly, wishing like hell that he could hear her and understand her. All she had was her touch which she used liberally to sift through his hair and trace over his throat.

Eventually, his thrusts inside her, eager as they were, grew harder until his wings fully stretched and his mouth opened in a soundless howl. Finished, he stayed put right where he was though he folded his wings back and his eyes lidded sleepily.

“Oh gracious, have I tired you out, little one?” She ignored his confusion and pushed him gently, watching his knot ease out of her body, swollen and taut with blood as it was prepared to keep itself anchored for quite a bit longer. Unfortunately, it wasn't big enough to lock him inside her and he looked between himself and her a few times, perplexed. Wick washed herself in whatever was left from the bathwater and then turned to him to wipe him with a cloth before she bodily eased him down onto the bedspread and pressed the head of her length against his ready opening. “Perhaps,” she cooed, kissing his sweet pink lips teasingly, “it is my turn to play Alpha?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It has been a very, very stressful week. Hopefully that does not reflect in what I've produced.


	8. Chapter 8

It had only been a day or two since their run-in with the slaving ship and when she had gotten the rest of her crew back and the ship sailing, she was irked to find that there was yet another obstacle in her way. When all she wished was to be left to her quarters knotted deep inside her bizarre yet comely Siren, Rollo was calling for her. There was a ship approaching them. It had kept distance at first but had clearly changed its course in order to intercept them and despite all of her crew's finagling with the sails, the speed of their charge was not enough to bypass them.

“What say you?” Wick asked putting her scope to her eye. “Pirates?”

“Likely. Whenever you'd wish us to hoist the flags, you less me know, Captain. We will scuttle them before they have chance to seek our surrender.”

“They're fast and they have the wind.”

“We can still flank them, Captain.”

She looked toward the ship that was rapidly approaching and considered her options as the sun glinted over the calm seas. She raised her telescope again to her eye to see the red of their flag being hoisted. They intended murder. “Pirates,” she spat. “They'll spare no quarter. I don't recognize the ship but I'm not in the mood for mercy today. Did the Beta give you all bits of beeswax for your ears?”

Rollo and Nuru peered at her solemnly and Nuru answered.

“Yes, Captain.”

“Soften it and put it in your ears. Instruct the rest of the crew to do so as well.”

Rollo scoffed. “Captain, how will we hear your orders?”

“You'll know them and you'll use your own instincts. I'll not lose any of you. Put the wax in your ears.”

Nuru frowned. “This is about your little bird. His voice. An angel's song.”

“A _Siren's_ song,” Wick told her despite Nuru's confusion at the term.

There was no lore that Nuru knew of to relate but she took the small bit of wax from her pocket and turned around to prepare it. “Will we see him fly then, Captain?”

“Tell the crew not to shoot him.”

Rollo sighed and moved to give the orders. There was a general amount of confusion among the crew but if they thought that Wick was mad for doing this, they kept the thoughts to themselves and followed the order.

Carson came to her. “You're going to release him.”

“I am. I'm curious as to how well he flies.”

“And if he cannot leave your side in his heat?”

“Then I deal with this the way I've done before.” She peered down at him, arching a severe brow and daring him to naysay her. She would have them ready the cannons and she would sink the damned thing to the bottom of the ocean, plundered or not. There was no pirate who dared face down _Icarus_ and live on to tell the tale. She roared out an order to her crew, “ _Ready the cannons, lasses, we'll take them to the bottom._ ”

There was a set of riotous cries around her and smiles from a raucous and ready set of Alphas.

“You're a dangerous woman, Wick,” Carson told her. “Can you fathom the havoc you could unleash by letting him free? What if he's shot?”

She growled low. “ _Then he is avenged._ ”

“You would not seek to protect him?”

“He can protect himself, Beta. He is not weak. The misconception that Omegas are weak has been what has forced Alphas into thinking that they are somehow a more functional sex—and as we both know, that idea is perfectly ridiculous.” She put her telescope to her eye again, her heartbeat pounding. “Pardon me, Beta. I have an Omega to rouse.”

Her quarters were warm when she opened the door and he was snoozing peacefully in the mussed up sheets and counterpane of her bed. His black feathers were puffed to allow airflow through to his skin and to release heat and the whole scene of his slumber was quite adorable even as she came to wake him. She had plowed him thoroughly throughout the night and once before she had left that morning and so when she woke him, he smelled sated.

“Oh little dearest, I have a favor to ask of you,” she told him while she lift him, naked and damp into her arms. “I need some very bad pirates to leave us in peace and I'm very much curious about what your voice can truly do...” She held his head to her chest so he could feel her purring and he snuggled against her while she brought into the companionway and then upon the deck. She eyed her crew, casting them hard glances as they were all caught staring at his strange form in her arms. Unquestioningly, they began to block their ears with the wax and skitter about to tell the others to do the same. There was a ripe anxiety in their scents at the sight of him.

Rollo stared. “Captain...he's...”

“Hideous?”

“A bird.”

Wick laughed dryly. “Thank you for the observation, Alpha. Is there anything else you might wish to tell me about him?” She tipped him and he came fully awake as she set him upon his feet and brushed her fingers through his long hair. “That's my little one. Wake up, sweetest.” She gestured for him to peer off into the breeze where the ship approaching was making haste toward them still. She knelt to look into his eyes and pointed at them and then pointed at herself, making a cutting motion over her own throat to signify that they wished to kill her. He frowned. To drive her point home, she pointed to each crew member in sight and then lastly to him, sliding her finger gently across his throat.

His eyes darted about to everyone around him, taking in their anxious stares until he had moved his gaze back to Wick who showed him the bits of wax that she made certain he saw her put in her ears. She tapped his lips with one finger and then pointed again toward the enemy ship.

She mouthed to him and tapped the side of her head. _Do you understand?_

For a terrible moment, she thought it was all going to be lost on him. She thought that he might have completely lost her meaning...but he hadn't. It was slow but it was there and he nodded, uncertain. He touched at her ears with the bend of his wings, blocked by the wax.

She pointed again to the enemy ship and he nodded again, this time quicker. Pulling him into her arms, she kissed his ear and then his temple and then his lips as a promise of what she could give him if he could do this for her and then she set him free, watching him awkwardly walk his way to the gunwale where he perched before he opened his wings and flapped before he dove from the side of the ship.

The wax had muffled everything and so she turned around and motioned to Rollo to turn the ship as if to avoid a confrontation and the crew complied, _Icarus_ swinging about while she walked along the deck to be sure that she could see Tempest's flight. He soared, his wings fully open and black as night against the impossible blue of the heavens. So dark he was against such a brilliant light that it was near possible for her to see him as a fallen angel—a devil of sorts. She couldn't hear him despite that she almost wished she could. She wanted to know what sort of song he would sing for them. She wanted to know the decider of their fate.

He swooped and soared and when he was far enough away, she peered through her scope and realized then that he must have been singing. Lines went slack, sails loosened from their ties and flapped uselessly in the wind. The ship itself took a frightening pitch as if the helmsman had spun the wheel with all his Alpha might.

She could see them through the glass, leaping from the sides of the brigantine, hurtling though the open air before white splashes rose up from their plummet. She could see them plunge from the bow as the ship reeled in a strange circling motion and drove them under. Wick watched, fascinated, as small puffs of smoke from the gunpowder in their pistols were lost to the ocean wind. They weren't shooting at Tempest—they were shooting into their own mouths.

_By God. They will do anything. Anything for it to end..._

He was soaring, swooping, and circling the ship like a vulture, flapping his wings and spying for anyone who was left—drawing them out of their hiding places so they could finally end their suffering. His voice was his weapon and he wielded it with great power. Finally, the enemy ship had turned enough so that it was in irons, its sails flat against the mast and its course ended, impotent as it had been. It drifted through the water, tilted and strange.

Wick looked about, his crew watching with wide eyes as the creature—Tempest, glided through the air toward them and came to land gracefully with several beats of his wings on the edge of the gunwale closest to her. To see him in flight, to know his true ability and power—it sent her heart soaring with him. He was _free_ and it lifted her knowing that his wildness could not be chained by any man bound to Earth. She reached out for him and took him in her arms, pressing kisses to his face and ear and hair until he wriggled in silent laughter.

She pulled the wax from her ears and made certain he knew of how pleased she was with him with her soft touches and happy scent. “Oh my brilliant little angel, I'm certain your song was the most beautiful sound to ever grace their sorry little brains. What a good little bird! I could just kiss you, and in fact, I think I will.” She grasped his face with both her hands and planted a hearty kiss on his pink lips and then another. He was grinning up at her still when Rollo's voice came to her.

“He's horrifying.”

Wick's eyes snapped upward toward the coxswain and narrowed. “You'd do well to consider him your friend rather than your enemy.”

“He can send a ship full of men to their deaths by a mere _song_ and how you came to come of this knowledge...he used it on you, didn't he Wick?”

“Not a whole song, no, and it wasn't his fault.”

Rollo pointed toward him, Tempest shying away from her finger. “Then he can do it without meaning!? You are to tell me that he is able to _accidentally_ cause this carnage?!”

“Calm yourself, Rollo.”

“I will not!” She fumed and huffed as the rest of the crew removed their wax. “You expect me to witness such a thing and not fear for my own life from this strange _monster_ you've brought aboard?!”

“We're taking him home. He's not dangerous to us.”

“Not dangerous? Should he make even the slightest squeak, are we at risk of hurling ourselves into the sea?!”

Wick swallowed, looking down at the Omega's gray eyes while she recalled her near-death moments with her head in her bathtub. A mere squeak from him had not been able to produce the full compulsion but his cry—yes. Should he be in any way forced to scream or sound out his frustrations, he could send her entire crew off the bow to keelhaul themselves.

Rollo's voice was trembling. “You've placed us all in danger, Wick!”

There was a murmuring through her crew that she did not like one whit. “Rollo, I will give you this as an order. He is not harmless but he means you none. Are you to punish him for the circumstances of his birth? Are you to punish him only because you cannot understand him?”

“He could _kill us_ , Wick!”

She thundered back, “ _As could I, should I wish it!_ ”

There was a stillness that surrounded them, an emptiness in which Wick could no longer feel the weight of her crew around her. They had seen what Tempest could do. They had seen his true form. They had reason to wonder at their fate at his talons despite all that she assured them of—that he was not about to harm them. They were his best option to going home, after all.

Tempest sidled up to her, his head coming beneath her arm as he took comfort in her squeeze around his shoulders. His scent, still heavily heated, was betraying his uncertainty in the face of Rollo's anger, his potent fear setting the rest of her crew on edge.

“You've upset him,” she grumbled. “I'm trying to take him home. If that doesn't appeal to you, there's a ship, Rollo,” she pointed toward the drifting brigantine Tempest had emptied in mere minutes. “Why don't you take whatever of the crew finds him distasteful and hatch your own grand piracy schemes. But I'm going to take him home even if I have to do it alone.”

Carson's very male voice piped up. “You'll not do it alone, Captain.” He stepped forward. “I'll be going with you.”

“As will I!” shouted Olya, coming to stand with the Beta. Perryton came behind her, her hand on the handle of her cutlass as she jutted her chin out to signify that she would follow Wick as well. Nuru joined them and with this, the crew rallied, grouping together much like Omegas often did when they had found their ranks. There were several shouts of support as well as murmured bits of agreement as the amalgamation of Alphas and Betas came together as one cohesive unit and the weight of her crew was back again behind her.

Carson spoke again, this time to the crew. “He hails from an island off the coast of Italy. There are likely more of his kind there and we would do well to learn a way to speak to each other without using our voices. If logic is to reign, it's likely that the little one and his kind have a...a way of communication that we may find him capable of teaching us.”

Wick felt a smile come to her face. “Quite clever of you, Carson.”

He grinned. “I'm not all bad, you know, for a man and a Beta.”

Rollo growled. “Then you would leave me to fend for myself, Captain?”

“I'm not going to tell you to go, Rollo. I'm disappointed in your mistrust of me after these years we've been sailing together and all the times I've put you in harm's way without your coming to an untimely death.” She glared at the woman who squared her shoulders. “Is it because of him? Because he's an Omega? Because you believe him to have bewitched me?”

“He is obviously bewitching,” she replied. “We have just witnessed the force of his power.”

“Do you trust me, Rollo?”

“I...” Her eyes flitted through the crew that had gathered. “I-I...have always pledged my loyalty to you, Wick.”

“But do you _trust_ me, Rollo?”

She fell silent.

Wick closed her eyes and licked her lips, swallowing her disappointment. “Alright.”

Nuru came to her and Tempest, her hand gently coming to the Omega's feathered shoulder and smoothing down his wayward fluff that rustled in the wind. “Captain...what do we do?”

“That is not my decision to make. It is Rollo's. She may either take the ship there with all its stores and stolen goods intact or she may wait in the hold until we come to port next.”

Nuru turned watery eyes to her shipmate. “Can you not find it in your heart, Rollo? This is our Captain. Has she before led you astray?” She petted Tempest, unafraid of touching him and knowing him. “He is but a small creature who has been lost at sea and that his voice can send a man to his death—is that the only thing you can see in him?”

Rollo held her head high defiantly. “Yes.”

Nuru shook her head with a sniff. “Then begone with you. I hope someday we will meet again and you will have learned not to be so cruel in your betrayals.”

“I have not betrayed anyone!” Her scent was hard and bloody. “I would not say what I do if not for my care for this ship and my Captain!”

“And yet,” Nuru growled, “you do not trust her as your Captain. Now. Leave us, Rollo. Make your own way and we will hold no contempt of you in our hearts.”

The woman stared at Tempest, her eyes tired, until she gave an almost imperceptible nod and walked to the side of the ship. She climbed the gunwale and slipped quietly down into the water to swim the short distance to the brigantine that she could not possibly command by herself. A ship that was fully staffed at 125 bodies could not be piloted alone and it was a fact that was not missed by any of them.

Wick drew Tempest to her chest and kissed the top of his head, turning to meet Carson's eyes in thanks. She had found strength alongside Rollo for many years and now she found herself with her moors pulling up around her. She could only hope that she had new ones to ground her...and for that, she knew she must place her faith in places she had never thought to before. Far off in the distance, a black storm that had not been there before was brewing and thunder rolled over the waves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So because in Greek mythology Sirens and Harpies are very much the same in appearance, I've mashed up their abilities here. There is at least one Harpy in mythology that can, with her voice, bring upon winds and storms.


	9. Chapter 9

The end of Tempest's heat was just as puzzling as the beginning of it, his feathers at first slowly coming away from him, leaving trails of black in his wake. Wick was baffled by the slow change and how his wings seemed to very gradually morph back into very human arms nearly without her even able to spot the process it took. Long flight feathers were left on the floor in the cabin for Nuru to collect, her intentions to create something with them as Tempest seemed entirely uninterested in them. For a day or so, he appeared ragged, most of his feathers gone and some still holding on—mostly of the mantle on his shoulders and collarbones.

She lay with him, naked and warm, treasuring the feeling of his head resting on her shoulder while she smoothed his hair. It was difficult to consider that he might have had some way to speak to her—through gesture of some kind. It was even more difficult to imagine how she was going to ask him to show her. Taking in a slow breath, she sat up, bringing him with her and catching his curious eye.

“Little one,” she breathed. “How will I know you?” She sighed through her nose as she regarded him and then pointed a finger at his chest. He looked down at her gesture then pointed his own finger at himself with question in his eyes. Wick moved her fingers to his ear, tapping gently upon it before she drew her touch to his mouth. _How do you speak?_ She felt a small bubble of frustration well up when she thought of what she wanted to ask him and how difficult it was to convey without words. She put her hand against her own chest, over her heart and then moved it to his, flat to feel the gentle thud of his heart. _I want to know you._

His scent and expression were slightly puzzled until he took her hand in his and set it into her lap, motioning for her to watch him. When he was certain he had her whole attention, he made movements with his hands, orientating his fingers in particular patterns that didn't mean anything to her but was utterly fascinating to watch. The Beta hadn't been wrong—there was a whole method of language here. Now if only there were a better way to access it.

Wick moved forward and grasped his hands, kissing his fingers and nodding to him. Then she pointed at him again and then gave him his hands.

_Who are you? What's your name?_

He smiled shyly and made a small motion.

 _That's his name._ She tried to mimic him and he did it again, slower. When she got it, he nodded his head with a broad smile. She watched him as he pointed at the floor and then the ceiling and then gestured widely, before making a sign. Wick made it back to him. “The _ship_ ,” she laughed. I get it. This is for _ship._ ” Once he was certain she got it, he began to teach her more movements that meant different things, moving around her cabin and quietly showing her things or acting them out so that he could teach her specific words.

_Bird. Wind. Ocean. Man. Woman. Fight. Hold. Door. Light..._

Wick absorbed what he could show her, slowly taking each movement he gave her and making it back to him enough for her to memorize it as he grew more and more excited about showing her everything. It seemed that he was very much interested in being able to speak to her which was heartening. She asked him, through motions, to give her certain words in this odd language of gestures and he readily complied, giving her words for body parts, clothes, and certain actions such as standing, sitting, and coming closer. Eventually, as he was winding down, she asked him for the word for kiss.

She teased him with her lips, more just a feather-light touch that enticed him, drawing him in to press harder and open for her, inviting her to take him deeper. Even as he opened and bloomed for her, she pulled back, staring at him playfully and expectantly while he put the pieces together and tossed her a chiding glance as he gestured the word for _kiss._

She mimicked it and he nodded and she made it again, waiting until he leaned over and pressed his lips to hers, bringing his arms around her shoulders and pulling himself into her lap. His mouth consumed like wildfire, his petal pink lips parted and wet against hers as he invited her in and pressed his hard member against her. God she would have given anything to be able to make him moan for her, capturing the sound between her lips and swallowing it the way she had with so many other Omegas in her life. Wick pulled back, motioning with her hand between them and then touching her own length and then his with her question in her eyes.

_What's the word for this? For sex?_

It only took one hand as he made the small motion and she repeated it twice with a gentle nod, laying him down among the sheets and pillows to lay tender kisses over his throat and chest. He was beautiful—more than beautiful. He was beyond anything she could have ever dreamed or dared to dream. He was made this way—to be irresistible. Like a flower to a honeybee, he drew her in and used her as his instincts told him to.

_You're not meant for my world, little bird._

She took him into her mouth, working her lips and tongue over his hard little shaft until he had come to spend between her lips, sighing and panting with his fingers caught in her hair. The relief in his body language was immense though he didn't seemed to become lethargic at all from this and in fact sprung up from the bed, jerking on his pants and his shirt and the band that held back his hair.

“Where do you think you're going, little one?” she asked, still sprawled out on the bed. “We've nowhere to be.”

He tossed her clothes at her, motioning to the door.

“Why?”

_“Ocean.”_

Wick sighed as she watched him make more gestures she didn't understand. He seemed even more excited when she put on her clothes and walked with him to the upper deck. Tempest pulled on her hand, leading her toward the bow.

_“Ship.”_

“Yes,” she said, her patience lengthening as the breeze rolled through her hair and filled the billowing sails, “It's a ship.” She made the sign for it back to him.

He pointed to the horizon then turned to her and made a motion.

Wick heard Carson's voice behind her. “You've been working on understanding him. So he does have a language.”

She turned to spot the Beta approaching them. “Yes. He's got a language. This one, I'm not getting. Horizon?”

Tempest made the sign for “ocean” again and then the new one, pointing off the bow.

Carson tilted his head. “Oh. It's not so difficult, Wick. That one is for the sea and this one is for uhm...” he made the sign, mimicking Tempest's movements. “An island.”

“Ah. Island.” She stroked her chin before she made the motion to him to show she understood.

_“Kiss.”_

She leaned down to comply with him but as he pushed her back, she saw him silently giggling as he shook his head. He made the motion again and then tapped his lips and made the sign for “kiss” which was only a small bit different but noticeable when Wick was paying attention.

 _“Island.”_ He gestured again and Carson gasped.

“Home! Home! That's what he means!”

Wick frowned. “That the motion for home and the motion for a kiss are so similar should give pause, I suppose,” she muttered, staring out over the sea while _Icarus_ flew over the water. “How far are we?”

The Beta cleared his throat. “A few days, likely. Enough time that we should be able to learn some of his language. Teach me, Captain?”

“He'll teach us. Tonight and tomorrow. It will be difficult to learn the more abstract concepts, but the simple things surely we can master.”

Tempest was willing and giddy, even. He gathered as many of the crew as he could find and of course, as Alphas, they humored him, finding him charming and sweet as he patiently taught them basic motions and even acted out scenes with Wick to show them actions or intangible concepts. A massive game of charades in the forecastle where the crew shouted out what they thought he was conveying had them all laughing even as the evening wore on. A good-natured crew, they took to practicing among themselves, a few even brave enough to make the attempt to “speak” with Tempest who found them unfailingly funny in their trials and errors. The more the crew seemed enchanted by him, the more Wick found him becoming enchanted with her crew.

Her whole body warmed as she watched him interacting with them, moving his hands slowly and even touching them at times, unafraid of them. Why should he be afraid of them, after all? They were kind to him. Their scents were happy and even delighted to work with him. If they felt any jealousy toward Wick to have him, they didn't show it, and they treated him with the utmost of respect. It seemed as though he were settling back into a habit—an old way of being after a long time of having been abused.

When he came back to her, the dark was upon them and her crew had begun their nightly drinking and revelry, a few of them singing along with some old shanties in their husky feminine tones. He leaned over as she sat before him and placed his lips upon her ear in a small kiss before he allowed her to take him into her lap.

He signed to her.

_“Drink? Eat?”_

_“Yes,”_ she replied. _“Bed? My room?”_ She wondered if she had said it correctly but was rewarded by his nod and his gentle tugs for her to get up.

Once there, he shared with her more of his little signs, each of which she worked hard to commit to memory. Timidly, he caught her attention while he ate, his movements and scent unsure.

 _“You. Not bird. I'm bird.”_ His hands came out to the side of him. _“Why?”_

 _“Don't know.”_ Wick shrugged and then gestured, _“Island.”_ She leaned back, popping a slice of orange in her mouth before she caught his attention again, pointing into her mouth.

 _“Voice,”_ he signed.

_“Yes. Your voice hurts me.”_

He appeared even more sheepish and took off the band that held back his hair, toying with it nervously in his hands before he dropped it to speak, his fist against his chest. _“Sorry.”_

Wick held him, pulling him close in a hug to reassure him. Suddenly, it felt as if her whole world had opened up. Sure, it was difficult to convey complex things to him but with this new understanding, it suddenly became possible...to know him.

“I want to know everything about you, little bird,” she whispered into his hair. “I want to know where you came from, who you are. I want to know how you came to be...” She drew him away. _“Island. More? You?”_

He nodded. _“Bird.”_

Wick smoothed his hair back from his face. _“Voices hurt?”_

_“Yes.”_

She acknowledged his reply and leaned back again, brushing his nose with her thumb. _“I like your face.”_

He motioned to her face and made a sign she could easily interpret. _“Beautiful.”_

_“No. You.”_

Tempest scoffed, his eyes rolling. He loomed over her, scenting at her throat and snuggling against her. He was snoozing in no time and gave no struggle as she slightly woke him to remove his clothes, the rest of his feathers shedding and fluttering down to the carpet along with his shirt, leaving his skin soft and supple and clean.

“Mmm,” Wick groaned, kissing over his neck, unable to get enough of him. He was far too sweet. He may have been some flower and she may have been the bee, but there was something so tempting about him that she felt almost as if she were to be devoured by him. She tucked him under the sheets and covers of her bed, cuddling near to him and wondering at how he had shaken her stability so badly. His mere presence had caused Rollo to doubt her. His form had given her reason to doubt herself and yet—here he was and her crew hardly questioned his existence, their live so filled with legend that it could only be natural to one day come across something strange and unexplainable.

But what about little Cassie Wick who'd hardened herself out of dreams and fantasies? How had this happened to her? What hand had placed him there before her in the hold of Tullis's ship? What force within her was driving her to take him home come what may? He was dangerous. Rollo wasn't wrong about that. A single peep from his throat could send them all to their maker so why was she so indifferent to the threat?

She nuzzled him.

There had been much danger in her life. She had placed herself before the guns and the dogs many times. She had taken risks that Rollo had never had to take. Her coxswain had been pulled from the hold of a slave ship and taught to sail against her will and thus, that was all she knew by now. Her life had been decided for her—but Wick's, that is, _Cassie's_ , had been a matter of sheer will.

_The cacophony of dogs in the distance. The lights from the lanterns shining through the trees. Flitting underneath the noses of those who would find her as a fugitive and drag her, kicking and screaming, back to the men who'd flay her alive if they could only get their hands upon her. The brutal stinging rain of the Carolina wilds and the mud on her feet when she finally stepped over the wooden boards of the docks. Stowing away on ships and masquerading as part of the crew—faking her papers until she was wholly another person. Until she could steal away onto a pirate's ship and find the paltry sum of her fortune that didn't depend on her gender or the color of her skin. Hard will. The type of will that turned little Cassie Wick into Captain Cassandra and made mens' blood freeze in their veins when they heard her name._

“I'm going to take you home, little bird,” she promised in a breath. “And if your home isn't there anymore...or they don't take you back... _I will be your home._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone bothers to notice, the sign language he's using will have similarities to American Sign Language because the dictionaries for ASL are far more extensive than International Sign Language (i.e. the word for "pirate" and "island" and other such words that aren't strictly for business transactions). Obviously I have an extreme amount of creative license here since this is fantasy. We're all the way in here and only now does Tempest have dialogue. xD Lord. Help me.


	10. Chapter 10

The island jutted out from the sea in the distance and Tempest was vibrating with his emotions—his scent sparkling and still beneath it all, uncertain. He could not tell her how long he had been away from his home. After a time, he had forgotten how long it had been. Would anyone there still know him? Would he be considered somehow an outsider?

She came to him and sidled against him, capturing his attention as they neared the lush-looking green that surrounded a towering rock formation. He turned to her, wrapping his arms around her and snuggling his head into the side of her, his scent calming next to her. When he backed away it was only to speak to her, his hands moving slow so she could understand him properly.

_“Thank you, Pirate.”_

She laughed, rubbing the top of his head to tease him. _“I will eat you, little bird.”_

He mock gasped, putting his hands over his mouth while he grinned and held in a giggle, letting it out as a few silent hisses. Over the days that it had taken to sail here, the crew had often practiced among themselves this language, keeping their ears blocked with wax even sometimes as they worked. The challenges were present but not entirely insurmountable and they worked through them readily for the promise of this island where the scent of Omega could lull an Alpha into a stupor. They were curious and more than willing to work under such circumstances for the chance at adventure—or a good fuck. Whichever might satisfy those cravings that often brushed against each other.

As for Tempest, he was increasingly open with her, sharing what he could as they sat together for supper and after. When he ran into a gesture that she didn't know, she would repeat it and he would make his best attempt to explain it and from there she had found herself truly discovering him.

He had gotten into an argument with the others, a conflict that had occurred during his heat when his wings allowed him to soar far and away. He was not kidnapped from them but flew from them too far and, as his heat faded, he fell from the sky into the ocean. He thought for certain that he would perish there, drowned under the relentless will of the sea, but he was found. Whether being found was a blessing or a curse, he could not say for he was taken onto a ship where the Captain attempted to rape him—and failed horribly. The whole of the crew expired from the effect of his screams and he was left adrift and alone upon a ship until he was discovered yet again as the winds and current placed him into the path of yet another Captain. So it went on and he did as much as he could do to keep from forming sound and surely, he thought, surely Tullis would bring him home. Tempest had grown pink and shy when he had reached the point in his tale when Wick had taken him.

 _“I have never seen lady pirate.”_ He touched her hand. _“Gentle.”_

Now, when she stood beside him, watching his home rise on the horizon, she felt her heart ache. This was for the best. She turned to him. _“Home.”_

He clung to her again, his arms tighter around her. The breeze carried his contentment to the crew and Wick watched them all beginning to place the softened wax in their ears. They were not to tempt fate and neither was she. She blocked her ears and Tempest smiled at her, touching where she had placed the wax and putting his hands to either side of her face to kiss her lips.

She gestured to him. _“Miss you.”_

His bottom lip trembled and his scent faded into a distinct melancholy. _“With me.”_

_“I'm Captain. Boat. I stay here. You go there. Home.”_

Tempest shook his head, grasping at her forearms and clearly unwilling to accept this. After all, what Alpha should refuse to stay on an island of Omegas. If the conditions were right for her crew, they would probably all very much enjoy an extended stay—if they could manage the constant risk of near drowning if they heard so much as a peep from their lovers.

Nuru and Carson, under her direction brought the ship near to what appeared to be a quite peaceful and shallow lagoon. Dropping anchor, they deployed the boats and Wick lifted Tempest into her arms to get him inside one even as he struggled to argue with her that she should stay with him. His scent grew irate when she refused to speak back to him, merely petting his hair and kissing his forehead.

“It's alright, little bird,” she told him, her voice muffled in her ears. “You cannot always get what you wish for.” She held him until her boots came down into the few inches of water in the lagoon and her eyes caught movement in the tall trees that lined the edges of the forest.

_Sirens?_

Nuru had put out a hand to stop the crew that had come with them from disembarking from the small boats and Wick remained the only of them with her feet on the land. She took a few splashing steps forward as her gaze found a peeping little Omega chancing glances about a tree trunk. Slowly, she set Tempest down, his bare feet in the warm salt water and watched the little Omega emerge with cautious steps to inspect him.

He was beautiful in the same manner as Tempest was and he was completely nude, his long hair blonde and free and swept to one side as he approached warily, his nose searching for scent even as he made gestures with his hands.

_“Tempest?”_

Tempest gestured back. _“Yes.”_ He motioned to the rest of the Alphas. _“Not bird. Friends. Strong. Pirate.”_

He shrank back a small bit, uncertain. _“Name.”_

He gestured to Wick and told the Omega, _“Friendly Pirate. Kind.”_ He made a few gestures she didn't understand though one of them she did and raised a brow when the two of them smiled together. _“Sex.”_

She tapped his shoulder to get his attention. _“You're home. He's friendly?”_

He frowned at her. _“You don't leave. You stay. You all stay.”_

The crew didn't move.

The Omega spoke to Wick. _“You sign?”_

_“Little. Learning.”_

He seemed almost impressed by her but regarded her with a healthy sort of wariness still as he cast his attentions on Tempest again and clearly seemed to tease him over his clothes, approaching him and plucking at them while Tempest bashfully gestured to Wick and the rest of the crew as if to say that when one was in Rome... The Omega circled him, taking in his state and then circled Wick once as well before he signed again to Tempest. _“Voice hurt them?”_

Her little lover hesitated before he replied, _“Yes.”_

He eyed them, saying nothing before he turned about and motioned for them to follow. Wick gave the order and the group left the boats, splashing down into the water and following their captain who trailed behind this strange, naked Omega. They ducked under trees, listening to the calls of strange birds and creatures they could not identify. She kept Nuru close to her and their ranks closed as the scents of sweetened Omegas met them the further they journeyed through this foreign forest. An open meadow surrounded by the forest greeted them and it was not populated with skeletons of their foes, in fact, it was beautiful—covered in a vast array of wildflowers with a dirt path that led through the middle until it came to an intricately carved face of the rock formation.

_This is their home..._

Tempest rushed forward, shedding his clothes as he went, leaping through the wildflowers as Omegas came from their carved little cave homes and peered out at the interlopers and at the returned one among them. It was very soon that he found who he was looking for and Wick's heart squeezed when she saw him throw his arms around an Omega who must have been his Oma—or his father, she thought, reminding herself of his little knot.

The community was small, she saw, and they gathered around him, probably only forty or fifty in number. Her worst fears had been allayed. They would not harm him. They would not reject him. They were small in number and with the power of their voices, they were safe from those who might wish to harm them. When Tempest was able to pull back, his eyes were glittering with emotion and he signed to them all, his hands moving so fast she could barely make sense of anything. Eventually, he motioned to them and she could scent that her crew was feeling the same sorts of heart-wrenching pride as she was. At the heart of all of these “ruthless” pirates, there was certainly quite a bit of softness.

There was a wariness though, in the cluster of Omegas who looked upon them with fear in their eyes.

She stepped forward as Captain Wick, and made a deep and meaningful bow to the lot of them. Tempest's Oma stood behind him, his arms around his young and his eyes narrowed. With a deep breath she greeted them as best she could.

 _“Hello. I am kind pirate.”_ She felt ridiculous. _“I have brought him home. He is safe?”_

His Oma replied. _“Yes. Safe.”_

She nodded and turned to go before she felt her hand grasped by Tempest who had come for her. _“Stay.”_

_“No, little bird. I sail. I am a pirate. You are a bird. You stay. I go.”_

_“No. No. Stay. With me. Sex.”_

She laughed and the rest of the crew chuckled behind her, the Omegas' cheeks all turning an attractive dusty pink as they cast their eyes over the crew. _“You are very cute.”_

There was a disturbance suddenly and all of the Omegas seemed to turn as a group, flustered. An older Siren emerged from behind a woven blanket covering an opening in the rock face and it was clear to Wick that he was some sort of elder or leader of some kind. He regarded them with narrowed, skeptical eyes and frowned at Tempest who shied and immediately hid himself behind her.

_“What is this?”_

Tempest's Oma spoke. _“Pirates. Brought Tempest home. He stays. They go.”_

He glared at her and she squared her shoulders. For a short little thing, he was quite full of himself and she could feel the energy from him radiating from his scent and his stance. If there were no such thing as Alphas here, she could be certain that there was such a thing as an “ _Alpha_ Omega.” Very decisively he signed to them all. _“No.”_

She raised a brow. _“Why?”_

_“You go. You bring more pirates.”_

_“No.”_ She pulled the map from her belt and held it to him. _“One map. Take.”_

_“You stay. Or you die.”_

Wick put out a hand to her crew to stay them from drawing any weapons. _“We stay. Few days. Know us. No harm. We go. Alright?”_

He was still glaring at them but seemed to concede, tossing Tempest a bit of a dirty look for his role in bringing them here. For all the tension he inspired in them, the Sirens were relieved when he retreated back into his own home behind the woven blanket and even spread out to the small amount of her crew to explore them and touch them, marveling at their clothes, their height, and their boots.

Wick turned to them, opening her arms and shrugging to them. She and the rest were led by them into a vast cavern that was lit by braziers lining the walls and she knew then that despite their nakedness and despite their animal sides, they were quite sophisticated. As she took stock of them, she noted that every single one of them were boys, curious and wide-eyed as they made the attempt to speak with her crew and pull them down to pillows that lined the floor around wooden tables upon which various fruits and goods were suddenly piled for them. As each crew member found her place among the pillows they were overtaken by the curious sniffing Omegas who crawled over them to scent them with abandon, having no concept of civilized taboo. It all made Wick grin like a fool, especially when her own little bird pulled her down into the corner and climbed into her lap with a bunch of grapes in his hand.

_“You will feed me, little bird?”_

He didn't respond. He needn't, after all. Tempest lifted one to her lips and delighted in the way she plucked it from his fingers with her teeth.

 _“Where are the girls?”_ she asked even as he moved to feed her another grape.

He freed his hands by popping one into her mouth and then replied. _“Gone. Past.”_

She supposed that if a male Omega was capable of procreating in either manner, there would be no sense in having girls who could not. She nodded, comprehending but not fully understanding. It didn't matter. She only had to spend a few days here at the very most and then, surely, she and her crew would be free to leave—that is, if they could.

When the steely older Omega who'd threatened them before entered to find them sprawled out over the pillows being stripped and pampered by all of these beautiful men who smelled like heaven and sang like demons, she felt herself wince at his expression. He was in no mood to be tested like this and he didn't trust them one whit. Not that he ever should, she confessed to herself.

She asked Tempest her burning question before he could pick her off another grape.

_“Who is he?”_

The Siren flicked a glance over his shoulder dismissively, cocking one brow and turning back to her with a haughty sniff. _“Father.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know when you have to remind yourself that things aren't allowed to be warm and gooey in a story forever? This is one of those times. Bad things are gonna have to happen.
> 
> Been having a very hard time lately. Very sorry. Forgive me.


	11. Chapter 11

There was no hint, none at all, that she'd been drugged but it was the only answer that she could fathom when she awoke in the depths of night staring straight upwards at the stars which shined through a hole not ten feet wide above her. Two inches of warm seawater lay at the bottom along with the rest of her shipmates and as she sat up, her head pounding, she cursed whatever fickle piece of her that had let her guard down.

_Tempest._

She peered about but didn't see him among the rest of her snoozing comrades who were jumbled together in this pit, most of them piled on top of each other and all of them obviously flung down here in the same fashion. The pit itself seemed natural enough, cut into the rock of the earth by some force of nature be it flood or quake and though the walls were scored and rocky, there was no chance that she could climb them. Standing upon each others' shoulders was just as improbable a solution as the pit was nearly four Alphas high and without purchase upon the wall, it would be nigh impossible to keep steady.

Obviously _Father_ had put his foot down one way or another and had ordered the removal of that which offended him. She took the wax from her ears. Whether or not Wick's shipmates would come rescue her was entirely based on how much patience and bravery they had among them. She hoped that it was enough. Finding Nuru, she shook the woman awake before taking the wax out of her ears as well.

“Mmm...Captain?”

“Yes, Nuru. It seems we've been had.”

She sat up, blinking a bit and looking about through the dim. “Ah. A trap, then. I suppose the rest of the crew will be unhappy with us.”

“Tempest is likely in trouble.”

“If he was not complicit,” the woman warned.

“Do you believe he was?”

Her mouth quirked to the side. “No...I don't. A very gentle soul, he is.”

“Then let's find a way out of this and find him. He needs rescue.” That said, she put the wax back in her ears and made sure Nuru did the same before she roused the rest of the crew and they set to work in trying to figure a way out of their mess. Unfortunately, they had been divested of all of their weapons and anything else that might have been considered useful and so they sat about brainstorming while the warm night moved on around them.

If only there had been a way to get the sea to spill inside this damned pit, she thought sourly. Then they could simply swim out of it. But the crashing sounds of the ocean sounded far away and there was nothing that would suggest they could at all rely on a rainstorm to fill up the damned thing.

After a few failed attempts at climbing over each other, she looked at Nuru and signed, “ _What I would give for wings._ ” Nuru, at least, had the graciousness to laugh.

“ _Is this hopeless, Captain?_ ”

“ _Never hopeless,_ ” she dismissed, staring up at the stars above as they faded with the coming dawn.

Almost as soon as she had turned her gaze back to her crew, a heavy snake fell on her shoulder and she jumped away from it to find that it was no snake at all but a rope. Staring upward, she raised a brow and cautiously removed a piece of wax.

“Good morning, Wick!” came a familiar call.

“Rollo?” she called back.

“Your crew was too cowardly to come for you save your Betas who have hearts of warriors! I knew you would get yourself into trouble!”

“You may tell me how much you know of me after I've climbed out and kissed you on your lips!” She helped each of her crew climb the rope until only she and Nuru were left and when, finally, Nuru was upon the rope, she grasped it and pulled herself up to follow, finding freedom at the top and Rollo who stared at her with a knowing expression. “For once I might tell you that you were right,” Wick laughed. “But not about Tempest.”

Carson came to her, handing her a cutlass and a pistol. “We caught sight of him, Captain. He's captured by the others. It seems that their leader has taken exception to him and to another of them. They're tied. If we cannot rescue them, they're bound to be killed. The Omegas here might be smart but they're savages all the same.”

“I suppose then my question should be whether or not you'll help me rescue him?” Wick asked, attaching the cutlass and pistol to her belt while she eyed Rollo.

Her coxswain gave a slight sway of her hip while she shrugged. “What else is there to do? If he is your mate, strange as he is, we must do everything we can to make rescue. He is dangerous, they all are. But should one be prosecuted by his own kind? Nay. I cannot abide it as much as I cannot abide it from our own. I am with you, Wick. For this. Perhaps should I prove myself, you will forgive me.”

“I've already forgiven you.”

“Then let us not waste any more time,” Carson told them, shoving the wax in his ears.

Following suit, they quickly and quietly made their way to the cave where they had been pampered and drugged only and hour before. Startled a bit by movement from the brush around the entrance, Wick pulled out her pistol only to find the cowering little blonde who had first greeted them on the beach. His face near his mouth was bruised and he gripped suddenly at Wick's sleeve.

“ _No. He will hurt you! He will hurt everyone!_ ”

She reached behind his head and squeezed at his nape to calm him, scenting the influx of calming emotions as she did so. Still, he seemed tense and he grasped at her. “ _Help Tempest. Don't hurt me._ ”

“ _Calm. You're alright._ ”

He settled but slipped back through the brush, eager to put as much distance between himself and the ensuing action as possible. Wick let him go, shooting a meaningful glance to the rest of them. It was likely that most of the little ones were under _Father's_ thumb and were keen not to get caught up in the mess.

Under the cover of the fading darkness, they crept together into the cavern which was empty and toward the woven blanket upon the wall that they had seen the man come from before. Peering into the tiny space between the fabric and the stone, Wick squinted but could see nothing save flickering firelight over an empty set of worn pillows and cushions that comprised an old and well-used nest. Her body thrummed with energy and it was surely their collective scents that would be their undoing should they simply stay here and twiddle their thumbs.

She ripped open the covering and brandished her cutlass to find poor Tempest tied tightly to his Oma, his eyes filled with fear and his scent dampened. His sire whirled toward them, defiant and quickly held a blade to Tempest's pale throat, his teeth bared and his body language clearly defining his intent.

Wick had no patience for this posturing and rushed him without thought. He turned sharply, forgetting Tempest and the other Omega entirely as he disappeared down a small passageway that served as an escape route. Wick dove in after him, moving quickly in the cramped tunnel despite her size and keeping his fleeing form in her sight through the dark. The tunnel seemed only to get smaller and smaller with each twisting turn and she almost was stuck in a few of the tighter narrowings. She pressed on regardless and eventually found herself facing the light at the end which came from a small fissure leading out toward the eastern edge of the island. Her boots hit sand and she saw the calm of the lagoon. She did not, however, see him.

He caught her as she emerged, knocking her across the side of her head with his surprisingly strong fist and though she staggered, she did not fall. One of the wax globs fell from her ear and instinctively, she reached up to touch at it, alerting him.

_No..._

He shrieked and she fell then, stumbling backwards as all of her breath left her lungs in a whoosh of surprise. Panic rose as nothing but pure horror filled up her vibrating mind like the clanging of so many bells. Discordant notes rang like the mixture of angelic and demonic voices and Wick could not determine whether or not what she felt was pain. She scrambled to get away from the sound, running full tilt toward the water to drown out the sound, her rational mind blown to the four corners of the Earth. There was nothing but that hideous sound invading her, begging her to end it through any means whatsoever and she dove into the lagoon, hoping somehow that the water would end it. Still, it echoed.

_It echoed. Seemingly a thousand years ago, pain echoed around her and her love for a man who had known her. She begged him to come with her but he wouldn't._

_“You don't know what's out there, Cassie. I know what's here for me. Life, despite everything, has made it so that I can survive the way it is. If we cannot be married, Cassie, that means naught to me. I still love you. But we can't be together. Whether we run away or not.” Robin stared at her pleadingly._

_“I don't understand,” she told him, shivering in the cold snap that marked the beginning of autumn. “You love me but you won't give me a chance. All because I'm an Alpha?”_

_“It's against God,” Robin explained._

_“All of this is against God,” she hissed, making a sweeping motion to the fields and the Master's house. “My mama, raped by Master Wick and birthin' me and mine and somehow everybody thinks that's somemat_ God _thought was alright for a white man to do to a woman? Give her whelps to work in 'is fields for 'im while his little white children, my brothers and sisters, spit on us and think us low? No, Robin, that's not something I'm willin' to accept.” She spat in the dirt. “God ain't got no hand in that. You come with me, boy, or you ain't gonna see my hide ever again. I'll get myself to Charleston and I'll sail to the ends of the Earth to find what God really made for me.”_

_“God made this for you, Cassie.” He took her hand, physical touch his last hope to keep her. “They'll hunt you. They'll kill you. They'll whip me til I tell them you're going to Charleston and then they'll whip me some more for not warnin' 'em.”_

_“Then I won't go to Charleston and you won't rightly know where I'm goin'. But I am goin', Robin. If you wanna get whipped, you can stay.” She pulled her hand out of his and stomped back to the small shack that housed her mother and her siblings. She cast one long look at the post that stood like a beacon to the side of everything. How many times had she been lashed to that post and whipped and left in the sun? How many times had they put her in the box that was buried out in the middle of the fields and left until she thought she was going to die from her fevered dreams? How many times did she have to keep letting them teach her the same hard lessons?_

_Never again, she thought. Never again. The big white house where Master Wick lived comfortably with his house slaves and his trussed up pink and white wife loomed in the distance and Cassie decided the name she would sully would be the name she should have been given when she was birthed, dirty and brown in a Carolina shack._

_Wick._

_“That's what I am,” she whispered to herself as she stared up at one of the upper windows, fancying that the Master could have met her gaze from that very pane. “I'm a Wick...and just as ornery as my father.”_

Water surged around her and something broke through the bells and the cold churning in her mind. _Just as ornery. Captain Wick. A black storm upon the seas._ She jolted her boots down to the sand beneath her and shot up from the water, gasping in a breath of air while those hideous chimes jangled still in her mind.

She didn't know what became of Robin—the man she'd loved and lost—but she knew what would become of Tempest should she die now. She wasn't willing. This wasn't how it would happen. Not without violence. Not without fury. Not without a true and honest storm that she would unleash upon those that would attempt to destroy her and her _mate_. She roared, her own voice mucking in her head until the chimes faded and she stalked from the water toward the Omega who brandished his small knife. His shock was apparent and he gave another shriek toward her, baring his teeth and squaring his shoulders while she stormed from the water.

It hit her like a wave but she screamed above it, roaring with the harshness of her _Alpha_ voice that's edge could cut through it and chop it down in her mind until it was a mere fraction of its power. With each cry he gave, she gave an equally powerful one and stalked toward him until his anger had transformed to fear and he swiped at her with his blade, his wrist easily caught in her large hand. She squeezed until he let go and then she tossed him to the ground where he gave one last cry as though this could stop her and she bellowed back at him with all her ire at his audacity, the echo of her own voice in her head keeping his power at bay.

He lay then, defeated, staring up at her and clearly expecting his own doom. She unsheathed her cutlass to give it to him but found her arm touched by a tiny hand—Tempest.

“ _Please. Mercy._ ”

“ _He hurt you._ ”

“ _He is still my Father._ ”

She stared at him, unable to discern whether or not she would have cut the throat of her own father had she ever been given the chance. Still, she sheathed her sword again and turned to Tempest, curling his hair behind his ear and leaning down to gently kiss his forehead. “ _Come with me?_ ”

“ _Yes._ ” He reached out, tugging at his Oma's hand who had come sheepishly from the narrow fissure to join him. When he looked up at Wick, there was a question in his eyes.

“ _Yes. Of course. He may come._ ”

Their collective sigh of relief put Wick at ease and she cast one last warning glance to the Omega she'd felled before she followed the two of them back through the narrow winding tunnel and found the rest of her crew. Satisfied, she and Rollo led them back toward the small boats, watched by wary eyes around them of the sirens who surely only wished them to go.

“ _Good luck, little birds,_ ” she signed to them as they rowed out toward _Icarus_ and boarded. The dawn came and Carson set their course—anywhere but here. After having introduced Tempest's Oma to clothes, Wick and Rollo watched as the younger Omega pulled about the older and showed him the various pieces and parts of the cleverly built ship.

“Do you intend to keep them both with you forever?” Rollo asked her, crossing her arms and raising a brow at their antics.

“If they wish it,” she replied.

“A Captain that no one should wish to cross, still more powerful for her mate. And what will you do now, Wick?”

She watched them sign to each other earnestly, hissing with their silent laughter and marveling at the ship and the billowing sails above them which looked pink and orange in the growing light of day. Fondness bloomed in her heart. “I suppose I will love them.”

“Is love a common thing for Captain Wick?” Rollo teased.

“It can become so.” She looked about. “Carson!”

“Yes, Captain!” he barked back.

“Set course for America.”

Rollo frowned. “Captain?”

Her mouth grew tight. “I've an itch to free some slaves.”

The Alpha beside her chuckled a bit and cast her eyes again over the Omegas whose voices could fell armies. “So be it, my Captain. I look forward to it.”

Wick clapped Rollo on her shoulder and then approached her little mate, watching him turn to her with sparkling eyes and a smile that could disarm her far more effectively than even his voice.  He bashfully put his head down and his cheeks were pink when she tilted his head up with a finger beneath his soft chin.  He took her hand in both of his and held it, shy and demure.

Taking her hands from him, she asked, " _What is it, little bird?_ "

He hesitated at the first, looking toward his Oma before he turned back to her and lifted his hands to tell her.  Nervous, he bit his lip and made the gesture for " _Baby._ "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If it sounds rushed, I apologize. It came to me very suddenly how I wanted everything to happen and I felt like I just had to get it all out or I would forget it. Ah. Oh well. I had so much passion for this story and it all but fizzled!
> 
> I suppose I'll have to consider carefully what I want to do next.
> 
> If you're interested in getting to know me better, follow me on my [Twitter](https://twitter.com/JD_Riley19) or my [Pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.io/JDWrites).


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